A Time for Love
by Laredo Grissom
Summary: GSR - Regency Historical - Grissom and Sara's lives change in a flash. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own or pretend to own CSI.  I am only attempting to take the characters off the screen and put them deeper into your imaginations. 

Genre:  G/S - Romance -- Regency Historical 

Summary:  Grissom and Sara's lives change in a flash.

A/N:  This story has been posted twice and due to certain circumstances I removed it each time.  It is being posted again since being updated.  There are now five chapters.  I hope you enjoy them and there should be another one in a couple of weeks.

Thanks go out to those that posted a review before and also to my wonderful beta, LSI, for her continued support and encouragement.  Thanks for the challenge, sweetie!

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            Flashes of light illuminated the room, intermittently casting shadows and lending an eerie feel to the dark room.  Rising slowly, careful not to disturb the evidence, Gil Grissom gazed at the tall brunette crouched by his side.  Ignorant of his gaze on her, she remained still while his eyes strayed longer than necessary, taking in her features, the deep groove between her brows, indicating her deep concentration.  The Maglite, held firmly in her grasp, clarified her profile as she peered down at the floor.  She bit her lip as she contemplated the disheveled mess before her.  Her hair, tucked neatly behind her ear began to fall forward against her cheek.  His hand tentatively reached forward, but just as quickly withdrew, as she pushed the straying lock of hair back into place.

            Pulling a pair of tweezers from her case, Sara Sidle carefully retrieved a particle that had captured her attention, from the floor.  His eyes traveled down her body as she moved forward, stopping at her long and graceful neck, then his gaze fell over her small breasts, quivering from each breath.  A soft sigh, barely audible, escaped from his lips.  Her shirt had risen from her crouched stance, giving a partial view of her firm stomach and the small of her back.  After collecting the item and placing it in her case, she stood, stretching from her previous cramped position.  She stripped one of the latex gloves from her hand with a snap.  His eyes held her for a moment more then flickered briefly before returning to the floor.

            As his light flashed forth, illuminating the room, their faces uncannily shared the same look of unemotional detachment.  The crime scene consisted of shards of glass from the broken displays, jewels and jewelry intermingled with the glass, brilliantly glimmering from the warm touch of the flashlight.   As if on cue, they both took a tentative step forward.  At the sound of crunching glass beneath their feet, Grissom turned back to Sara, motioning for her to remain where she was.  Another couple of steps brought him to a small bundle on the floor.  When he picked it up, it was clearly a small scarf.  He retraced his steps, moving further forward to stand close to his partner.  Her eyes scanned the piece of cloth in his hand.  

            Trying to look at the object inside the scarf, Grissom fumbled with the Maglite in his other hand, nearly dropping it.  Sara gingerly took the light and guided it over his hand.  The cloth was finally moved out of the way, uncovering a beautifully engraved diamond ring, twinkling in the luminescent light.  She reached for it but stopped abruptly, looking at her ungloved hand.  Grissom, his voice low and strong, said, "I'll just put this in my case, then we should head back to the lab with what we have."  Sara indicated her agreement with a nod.

            Grissom suddenly lurched forward, his feet tripping on the silver case at his feet.  Sara stirred swiftly, trying to prevent his body from falling to the floor.  Slipping out of Grissom's grasp, the ring went flying through the air, no longer enshrouded by its covering.  When it began to fall to the floor, they lunged for it simultaneously.  

            It seemed to happen in slow motion, as if time had slowed.  She reached forward, her hand opening directly below it.  She began to lose her balance as her feet also tripped over her case.  She grabbed onto Grissom's arm to steady herself as the ring landed safely in her hand.  Her fingers closed over the ring, entrapping it in her clasp.  A bright light flashed at that instant, and was gone just as quickly, taking with it the two CSIs.  Darkness fell over the empty shop.


	2. Chapter I

            Black nothingness greeted her tired eyes as they fluttered open.  Sara tried to discern where she was but her thoughts were muddy and her breathing was coming out raggedly –as if a great weight was pressing down on her.  She tried lifting her arm but winced at the pain in her shoulder then at the throbbing ache in her head.  She tried to catch her breath but couldn't draw in the air deep enough.  There was something lying across her chest and when she tried to remove it, she felt flesh beneath her fingertips.  The weight was obviously human.  Still, she pushed harder to get the weight off but barely managed to nudge the person.  Then the person groaned.  The deep, reverberating tone indicated that it was a man.  Beginning to wonder how she'd gotten in this position, she tried again when he lifted himself slightly, enough for her to breathe easily.

            "Sara?" the man asked.

            She thought she recognized the voice.  She asked in return, "Grissom?"    He rapidly moved off of her and she sat up but realized too late that it was the wrong thing to do.  Her head pounded painfully and her hand flew to the source of the pain on the back of her head.  Feeling nauseous, she rolled to her knees, expecting to vomit.  Instead, she began to slowly take some much needed deeper breaths and the feeling subsided.  Noting the grass below her hand and the dew soaking the knees of her jeans, she asked cautiously, "Where are we?"  

            Grissom moved closer, following her voice.  "I don't know.  We are outside though."

            Sara sniffed.  "Ya' think," she said sarcastically.  It was obvious they were outside but the darkness gave them no indication of where they were.  One thing she did know however was that they weren't in Las Vegas.  The bright lights of the city would've provided them with some sort of ability to see.  But wherever they were, there was nothing.  Her mind was in turmoil.  The last thing she remembered was clasping the ring in her hand and then a bright light.  Her left hand was still clenched tightly as if holding something in it.  She peeled back her fingers slowly, using her other hand to feel the ragged edging of the ring.

            "We don't know where we are or what the area is like.  I suggest we wait until daylight before we attempt to go anywhere."  Grissom was full of suggestions all of a sudden.

            Her head hurt so much, but since she didn't know how bad of a concussion she had, sleep didn't seem a wise option.  "Well maybe you can keep me awake somehow."

            Grissom's disembodied voice floated to her from the darkness.  "What do you mean?  Why?"

            She sighed, "Because I think I probably have a concussion and it wouldn't be good for me to fall asleep, although, I've just been sleeping…" her thoughts were getting jumbled and she again put her hand on her head but this time to provide support at her forehead.  Suddenly, she felt Grissom's arms around her, warming her.

            "We're beneath a tree, I'll support both of us with it and you can lean against me.  If you do have a concussion you probably shouldn't lie flat either."  He pulled her tighter against his body, sheltering her from the cold night air.

            She was feeling much more comfortable, but Grissom's touch and body heat were making her want to fall asleep.  "Gris, keep talking," she managed to say before yawning.

            THE AIR SEEMED EXTRA DAMP, almost like Seattle or even San Francisco.  It was nothing like Las Vegas usually is.  "I don't understand it.  We were trying to catch the ring and the next thing, I'm waking up on top of you and we're both outside.  What do you think happened?    How'd we get outside?"

            There was no answer to his question.  He asked it again, when no reply came, he gently shook her.  Still there was no reply.  "Sara?  Come on, Sara, wake up."  He shook her harder and then he heard her grumble.  "Come on, Sara."  He stood with her in his arm, getting her on her feet, hoping to wake her up.

            "Stop shaking me.  I don't feel so good," she protested as he shook her again.

            "Sara, we need to walk.  To keep you awake."  Looking over his shoulder he could see the rising sun.  When he turned back to her, he noticed blood trickling down her forehead; his worry now mounted.  As her feet began to support her weight, he saw her silver field kit.  "Wait, hold on."  He bent down, his hand still grasping her arm, and pulled out a piece of cloth.  His attention now intently on her face, he tenderly dabbed at the blood, pushing her hair upward to see the wound.  It wasn't much of anything, but she must've hit a bleeder. 

            Groggily, Sara asked, "What's wrong?  Am I bleeding?"

            "Hmm, yes.  It's not a big cut though… more of a scratch.  The bleeding has stopped," he soothed.  As he continued dabbing at her wound, he glanced circumspectly around them, taking in the countryside.  The area didn't resemble anything near Las Vegas.  Off in the distance he could see a cloud of dust but not the cause of it.  There seemed to be a road a short distance away and he thought it might be a good idea if they headed in that direction.

            Sara looked as though she had her balance so he released his grip on her and started to sort through the case.  Several pieces of jewelry from the crime scene were inside.  As he dug further, he could see there were several others.  He closed the case and picked it up, then again grasped Sara's arm.  "Let's head over in that direction."  He pointed with the hand holding the case towards the road.  They walked slowly, the ground being somewhat uneven.  In Sara's condition, she weaved periodically, losing her balance as they would hit a dip in the ground.  After gaining the ridge of a small hill, they stopped as a cloud of dust appeared nearby, down the dirt road.  It was gathering speed and approaching them.  A thunderous noise also could be heard as it approached.  The closer it came, the more distinct the sound.  As it approached them they could clearly make out four horses and they were pulling an enclosed carriage.  It roared past them on the road below, leaving them to stare after it.

            They were stunned and looked at each other in disbelief.  The dust cloud that followed in the carriage's wake rose to meet them.  They coughed as it overpowered them and both reacted with a wave of their arms in an attempt to clear it.       

            Neither wanting to speculate on what they'd just seen, they stumbled their way down the hill until they reached the road.  Grissom guided her to follow the road in the same direction as the carriage, guessing that wherever the carriage was headed there should be a town or farm.

            The road remained empty on their trek.  It was a couple of miles before he saw the towers of a town on the horizon.  The sun was up high in the sky and was helping the fog clear but didn't allow much for sight.  On their right was a small cottage.  A woman was outside, dressed in a long garment and beating on what appeared to be wet clothing.  The woman hung the clothing on a line with some others then went inside the cottage. 

            Sara stumbled on a rut in the road and Grissom was barely able to keep her from falling.  He helped her across the road and to a large tree that provided shade.  It was warm but not hot.  The dampness in the air, however, made it feel worse than it was.  They took a seat under the tree, Sara propping herself up against it as Grissom checked over her head and then her eyes.  "Well your eyes are clear, if a bit red.  I suspect that the concussion is minor.  We'll rest here a bit before moving on."

            Sara sighed heavily.  Irritation was evident in her voice as she asked, "Gris, what the hell is going on?  This can't be happening.  Carriages for god-sakes, out in the middle of… well, nowhere."

            He ran his hand through his curls and glanced around them.  "I really don't know.  It could be for some festival or re-enactment maybe.  But this area doesn't even feel familiar.  I mean except for that time I vacationed in England but that was nothing like this.  Besides, how would we have gotten to England?"

            "We need to get to that town and find out where we are.  Catherine and the guys are probably worried about us."

            Grissom took a moment to look her up and down, taking in her pale features and her blood-shot eyes.  "Do you think you can make it?"

            She wiped her forehead and looked at her hand for a moment.  Then she glanced up to him and silently shook her head.  It was obvious she needed a rest and Grissom was glad he didn't have to argue with her.  He sat down and leaned against the tree next to her, gathering her against him with a deft move of his arm.  She sunk down against his body, sighing with relief as she wrapped her arm around his stomach.  He could hear her breathing grow shallow and knew she'd fallen asleep, almost as soon as she'd gotten herself comfortable.

            He laid his head back against the tree, closing his eyes, thinking of their situation.  As soon as they reached the town they'd be able to ascertain where they were and would be able to get some help.  Sitting beneath the tree, with its abundant shade, was relaxing.  He hummed in appreciation for a moment, all the while stroking Sara's silky hair as if still soothing her.

            When he opened his eyes next, the sun had nearly set and it was getting much cooler.  He hadn't wanted to fall asleep.  He looked down at Sara.  Her head was in his lap and her arm was draped over his legs.  She was still out cold.  She needed the sleep.

            It wasn't long however, before she began to stir.  She started to push herself upright but he could see she was still finding it hard to get her balance.  Swiftly, his arm snaked out and he grabbed her around her waist, easing her backwards to lie against him but in a sitting position.  She held her head for a moment, wincing from pain.  "Are you all right?"

            Sara squinted up to meet his eyes.  "Hmm, I feel really groggy, sort of like I had too much to drink but without the accompanying headache of a hangover."  She lowered her hand as her gaze flew over the scenery and the darkening shadows of the trees.  "Any idea where we are yet?"

            "No, I fell asleep too.  But if you feel you can make it… I'd like to get over to that farm and see if we can speak with someone.  Think you can manage?"  She met his eyes with a pinched smile.

            As they threaded their way through a small stand of trees, they could make out a cottage and its dilapidated state.  Smoke billowed out of the roof on the far side.  Both surmised it was a chimney and wondered why they'd be using a fire on a summer night.  They trudged along until they passed the clothes line, having to duck underneath the clothes to get by.  Sara stopped just after they appeared from under it and turned back to touch the cloth and take a closer look.  Most of the clothing was of a brown color and faded.  A couple of dresses swung in the breeze and were of a rather long length.  Her nose scrunched up in contemplation of what it could mean, but she couldn't fit any pieces together.

            They went to step onto the porch but Grissom held her back and bent over something.  When he stood back up, he had a folded set of papers in his hand.  He carefully unfolded it and squinted at it due to lack of light, the sun already low in the sky.  He couldn't make out much of the wording though.  It occurred to him then that they had a Maglite in Sara's field kit.  He set the kit on the ground and pulled out the light, then flashed it over the top of the page.  Sara peered over his shoulder to read the paper.  She gasped at what she saw, but rapidly covered her mouth to stifle the noise.  The paper read -

The Times

LONDON, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1822


	3. Chapter II

            "This is not happening.  It's not possible."  Sara had regained her equilibrium and was stomping around the shaded tree while Grissom continued reading the newspaper.  They'd returned to the tree in a daze to study the newspaper.  She was only a couple feet from Grissom, who was also the only source of light.  She glanced over at him, watching as he flashed the Maglite over the paper, turning it this way and that way, feeling the texture of it then continuing to read it again.  Within a few moments, he folded it neatly and placed it on the ground.  Their eyes met and held.

            "Let's look at what we know," he guided.  Sara walked to him then plopped herself down in front of him, legs crossed.  He waited while she settled herself then began, "First, we know we're not in Las Vegas.  We were working the burglary and found that ring and scarf.  It was definitely out of place.  Two, when you grabbed the ring, keeping it from falling, there was a blinding flash of light and we woke up here.  Three, there was that carriage today with the horses.  We haven't seen any other traffic on the road or any form of communication wires or towers.  Four, we have this newspaper, and I find myself perplexed by it.  It has the same texture and print as some of the old texts I've seen in the archives at a couple of universities."

            "Wait, Gris, you believe all this?  That we somehow traveled back through time to… here, wherever here is."  Sara gestured around at their surroundings.  "Why this place?  Why not Las Vegas?  And why this time, not some other time?"

            Grissom shook his head looking at her then back down to the paper.  "I don't know.  Maybe it's not what happened.  Maybe it's some sort of re-enactment."  He leaned back against the tree, looking up to the star-filled sky, sighing heavily.

            Long moments of silence passed between them.  They were going to get nowhere tonight and Sara began to feel slightly lightheaded.  The night was turning colder and would only get worse.  Although uncomfortable with the situation, she was willing to put their isolation to good use.  Grissom had been distant to her for several months and now he was suddenly attentive to her.  She mimicked him, letting out a deep sigh, then scooted herself closer to him.  Instinctively, he lifted his arm to encircle her, his unique smell enveloping her senses as she snuggled against his side.  The night might be cold, but she wasn't anymore.  This time she let out a sigh of satisfaction.  If she had traveled back in time, she was glad it was with him and not someone else… or alone.  She drifted off to sleep, feeling secure and warm in her cocoon made from Grissom's arms and his body.

            The morning dawned with the cheery chirping of birds in the brisk morning air.  Waking serenely, she nuzzled closer to Grissom, finding the warmth comforting.  It was a good time for some quiet reflection.  Although not remembering her dreams, she knew they had been pleasant and even somewhat restful.  She attributed them to Grissom's presence and his recent treatment of her.  Her head rested on his chest, and she listened to the rhythmic fall of his breathing.  He was still fast asleep, and it allowed her to study him as she tilted her head up to look at his face.  He also appeared to be contented.  She smiled.  'Maybe it's just because he's sleeping with me.'

            A noise in the distance caught her attention.  She listened, as she snuggled in closer to Grissom.  She could make out the galloping sounds of horses along with the creaking of a suspension carriage, bringing back the memory of their discovery.  'Discovery?  Is that what it is?  Did we really do this, travel through time?'  She knew the theories developed over time by several scientists including Einstein but they were just theories.  _Weren't they?_

            She blinked.  The scientist in her roused and began to extrapolate the evidence and the equations.  The possibilities were astounding.  If they had traveled through time, it would be the greatest discovery.  Nothing would ever be the same again.  Grissom hadn't actually confirmed his belief that they had, at least not to her.  The problems that could ensue from this were also just as astounding. 

            If they had traveled in time, how were they going to get by and fit in?  Their clothes were certainly different and they were both Americans, not British.  Of course, that's assuming they were in England.  She recalled the clothes hanging on the line, having touched them as well.  _Those could work, if they fit.  She looked back up to Grissom's face.  He was still sound asleep.  Carefully she extricated herself from his arms, checking to make sure he hadn't awakened.  Taking the opportunity presented to her, she knelt over him, softly letting her hand graze his cheek, and then she tenderly kissed where her hand had previously touched -a move she would never have made towards him if he were awake.  She stood and stretched, breathing in the fresh air.  It was time to take their destiny into their hands now._

            THE COLD began to seep into his body as Grissom turned on his side.   The sudden freedom of movement woke him abruptly.  He sat up quickly and darted a glance around.  Sara was nowhere to be seen.  It seemed all he did lately was worry about Sara.  Her injury, although not life-threatening, had concerned him.  It didn't help either that the situation they were in was foreign to them both.  He got to his feet and began to search the area, thinking that she might have collapsed somewhere nearby.  After searching for about a half hour and not finding her, he began to get slightly frightened.

She was an independent woman and had many times chosen to do things on her own without consultation or consideration of others.  Brass had found that out the hard way when she'd drawn her gun on a suspect at an unsecured scene when the police had raided.  He shook his head, 'the girl was certainly a handful.  Scott Shelton had been correct in that assumption.'  When he looked back up, his worry deflated as he saw her approaching over a small rise, carrying a load of something in her arms.  Instead of walking to meet her, he waited patiently, counting to ten in an attempt to control his anger.  She had once again taken action without considering the consequences.

            When she gained hearing distance, he called out in a gruff voice, "Where did you go?"  She lifted the items she was carrying and he saw that they were clothes.

            She finally reached him and stated, "I thought that if we did travel through time then we might as well look the part.  If we didn't and it's some sort of re-enactment then we will still look the part."  Her gap-toothed grin spread over her face as she threw a couple of items his way.  It was obvious to him that she had no idea what kind of worry she'd cost him.

            He caught the clothing in the air then looked them over.  He quickly decided that fighting her was a losing battle and he'd rather join her.  "Umm, where are we going to change?" he asked, grinning mischievously at her as her smile disappeared.

            Sara began to motion to the tree, stuttering her words as she did, "We can, umm, I'll just, umm, go behind the tree."  She ducked her head.  For some reason, she seemed embarrassed.

            After taking turns, they changed into their 'new' clothes.  When Grissom stepped out from the tree, they stared at each other and broke out into laughter.  If this was real and they had traveled through time… they were going to be the sorriest looking people in England.  If it was a re-enactment, they would still be the sorriest looking people.

            They grabbed up their clothes, folding them in such a way as to not be too noticeable.  Sara grabbed up her field kit but Grissom tugged it out of her hands.  "I'll take it.  You do still have your concussion.  It's not going away over night."  He could see the scathing comment on the edge of her lips but was surprised when no comments were forthcoming.

            While they traveled along the dirt road, Grissom grasped her elbow every so often, attempting to help her keep her balance.  He knew he was being overly protective, and she would soon say something about it to him, but he didn't care.  He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.  He felt guilty about their situation.  It was an irrational thought.  He'd had no control over the situation or how they'd gotten in it but still, he felt the weight of the responsibility squarely on his shoulders.  So the last thing he wanted was for anything more too happen to her.  He was interrupted from his rumination by a probing question from Sara about his knowledge of the time period.  "Really, the only things I know much of this time period are scientific and pertain a lot to entomology.  What about you?  Know anything to help us?"

            Sara grinned.  "I know some scientific discoveries and such but I did learn a little about society and how it was operated."

            "Oh.  Are you going to fill me in?" he asked, a bit of sarcasm lacing his voice.

            "Well, for one thing.  Unless we are married, you and I can not be seen alone together… ever," she instructed.

            "That's certainly going to be interesting as we aren't married and we are traveling alone."

            "No one knows us and so no one knows that we aren't.  But we need to come up with a story."  Grissom glanced toward her face and saw her brows knit into a frown.  She was thinking hard, as he should be also.  But he couldn't take his eyes off of her.  One of his simple pleasures was to watch her thinking.  She had a brilliant mind and it enthralled him to see it in use.  It was one of the many things about her that attracted him to her.

            "What if we say we are married and we have traveled from America?  Think they'd buy it?" she asked, glancing at him surreptitiously.

            Pretending to be married was not an option he was inclined towards.  He'd been trying to maintain a distance with the woman he'd be calling 'wife'.  The situations that they could be thrown into would quickly dissolve that safety net he'd created between them.  And although he'd enjoyed the closeness they'd developed in the last two days, he wasn't sure this would be the safest course.   But then again they didn't have too many options.  "Since you know a little about the society of this time, why don't you tell me some of what you know about the marriages?"

            Sara's face turned a bright red.  "I, umm, well… I'm not sure how to put it.  I guess you could say they were distant.  Husbands were indifferent towards their wives, at least in England they were.  That is if the marriage wasn't founded on love.  In America, I'm not sure."  He saw her in his peripheral vision looking at him.  He turned to meet her gaze.  "I think we could probably pull that off quite well," she added.

            He wasn't sure what to make of that statement or the pain he thought he heard in her voice.  'Does she think I'm indifferent to her?'  That was the impression he'd been giving her the last several months and yes, he'd been doing that on purpose.  Hearing it said aloud and so bluntly made his heart sink.  Even though he'd pretended his indifference, he wasn't.  It was a lie_._

            "Well, we don't have many options, Gris," she began again when he remained silent.  "Let's go with that for now.  What we really need to worry about is money.  How are we going to get more clothes?  And where are we going to stay?"  She again caught him off-guard.  She was really thinking this through. "We could probably stay at an Inn but we'd need money for food and to pay for rooms… I mean a room."  She winked at him and Grissom felt his blood rising.  'Damn, she's good.'

            He was trying to figure out how she knew what they'd be running into.  It made him wonder where she was getting her ideas.  "Sara, how do you know what we're going to need?"

            She smiled.  "Ever heard of romance novels, Gris?  They can be a wealth of information… and a great way to escape."

            _Now what would she need to escape from?  He thought as he halted his steps.  She also stopped and turned to face him.  "I take it that you read romance novels.  That's something I don't think I ever pictured you doing."_

            "Oh… and what have you pictured me _doing_?" she asked, a pretense of innocence in her voice.  It was his turn to feel the heat rising in his face.  She didn't play fair.  Before he could respond, she continued her explanation. "Just because I'm a scientist and went to Harvard, doesn't mean that I don't like to read fiction.  It really is a great way to escape and to get your mind off of the real world, especially when the real world is lacking," her words trailed off and he thought he'd misunderstood her.

            "What is lacking in yours?" he asked and saw by her reaction that she hadn't meant for him to hear the last bit.

            "Right now?  A husband," she answered, saucily.

            Her forthright answer startled him.  'Where did that come from?'   He shook his head and asked again, "No, what I meant is… what's lacking in your life that you would feel the need to fill it with a romance novel?"

            "Gris, don't be obtuse.  'Romance' novels, what do you think?"

            He stopped mid-stride and watched her continue walking.  _Romance?  If his hands were free, he'd be hitting his forehead.  He'd fallen into that one.  He caught up quickly and asked, "I seem to remember that recently you were in a relationship… with Hank."_

            Sara glared at him.  Her hands came up and she held them out palm up, moving them up and down like a balance.  "There's romance and there's friendship.  I never had romance."  She dropped one of her hands.  Her revelation surprised him.  Even after her break-up with Hank, which had quickly been spread about the lab, she was still calling it friendship.  _Was that really all it was?_

            They continued walking along the road, but now in silence.  After a short distance, Grissom declared, "You do now."  He'd caught her attention with his declaration and she halted her steps to stare at him.

            "I do now, what?" she asked perplexed.

            "Have a husband," he chuckled.  Seeing that she wasn't grasping the meaning, he continued.  "This isn't the real world, for us at least.  As you said earlier, you and I wouldn't be allowed to travel or be seen alone… unless we're married.  So, I guess you're stuck with me."

            Sara smiled.  The opportunity was not going to slip by this time.  "I wouldn't call it being stuck."

            Grissom stopped in his tracks.  He didn't know whether to ask for an explanation or just let his imagination run wild with the implications.  For the last two days, he'd kept his feelings for the woman tightly reigned in.  The exception had been his worry for her and the concussion she more than likely suffered.  She appeared to be recovering from it but he still worried.  A concussion wasn't something to take lightly.  It had been hard, holding back.  This beautiful woman, now walking ahead of him, had several times pressed her body against his.  He only allowed himself to think it was for warmth and comfort because of her concussion.  Thinking anything else would cause him to lose his control.  

            Sara's pace was quickly putting distance between them, not having realized that Grissom had stopped.  He quickly caught up to her and as he got close, close enough to see her face, he searched it.  Pain wasn't evident, so that was a good sign.  She looked a little tired but that was to be expected.  

            They would soon be reaching the town they'd seen the day before.  He thought about what she'd said and wondered if, since she was no longer attached, she'd have a problem with them portraying a married couple.  It would be hard to play out especially with her as his spouse.  Controlling his feelings for her would surely become unbearable.  There weren't too many options though for them and the only other likely one was possibly him acting as her father.  Grissom shook his head.  That wasn't an option.   He knew with the amount of flirting they shared between them that it would look extremely peculiar to onlookers.   His feelings for Sara were definitely not fatherly and although he wasn't ready to pursue any type of relationship with her, he couldn't completely ignore them or his physical reactions to her.  With a resigned sigh, he made his decision.

            "Sara, if you really don't have a problem with us portraying a married couple…" he started to say but was interrupted.

            "I don't have a problem with it, Gris.  If you'll remember, I asked you out not too long ago," she replied softly.  "My feelings haven't changed."  She stopped and stared at him, not quite letting their eyes meet.  "Do you really have that big of a problem with it… with me?"  Now she let her eyes meet his.

            Grissom held her gaze.  He wasn't about to avoid it this time.  "No." 

            It was close to an hour later when they came to the town.  Another carriage approached them from behind and they had to quickly step to the ditch to keep from being run over.  In the clothes that Sara had so gingerly borrowed, they appeared as any other farmers and were obviously considered as such.  Grissom pulled Sara towards a secluded section on the edge of the town so they could observe their surroundings.  They both concluded that there was no re-enactment.  They were literally thrown back in time.

            "All right, romance novelist… what do you suggest we do?"  Grissom teased.

            "Hey, I read them… sometimes.  I don't write them," she replied.

            "And there's a difference how?" he knew he was pushing it, but he enjoyed getting her riled up.

            She glared at him and was about to say something else but her gaze was quickly diverted past him.  He turned to see what had drawn her attention but couldn't decide on what it would be.  It could be the older woman, standing outside one of the shops and sweeping dust from in front of the doorway.  Or it could be that she was looking at the carriage that had passed them earlier, nearly running them over.  A young boy was holding a team of four horses as the occupants began to re-enter it.

            "Gris, I think I have an idea but you may not like it."  Her eyes, blinking once, looked in his direction without moving her head.  Then she moved closer to him and spoke softly.  "We are going to need funds to purchase clothes and other items.  In my kit, we have several pieces of jewelry and loose jewels."

            He immediately grasped her meaning and shook his head against the idea.  It was evidence and they couldn't just use it for their benefit.

            "Grissom…" she tried to explain.

            "No, it's evidence.  We can't just…" he began.

            "If you'll let me finish," she broke in, her voice raised to get his attention.  He remained quiet, blinking at her.  "I was going to say that if we are in the past, those jewels and jewelry pieces will end up there again."

            She had a point.  He considered her idea and the ramifications.  All the possibilities rushed through his mind and started to give him a headache.  Again, they didn't have many options.  They were broke.  No way to support themselves in this time.  They really needed to think this through.  There was so much they needed to discuss, to get their story straight.  "You're right.  I'm sorry, I wasn't willing to listen."  He saw the understanding in her eyes.  She had the same inclination to not let the evidence out of their sight.  They were alike in so many ways, thinking about the evidence first before anything else.

            "Before we have a long drawn out discussion on getting our story right, I think we should exchange these jewels for money.  Then we can find some place more appropriate for that discussion.  Don't you agree?"  Before he could answer, she walked past him.  Coming to his senses, he pulled her back before she could step out into the street.

            "Wait a second.  Let's think this through."  Grissom looked at the people on the street and then at the jewelry store.  "First of all, would a woman in this time go into the store to exchange them or a man?"

            Sara blinked.  "Probably a man, since they were the ones that handled money and finances.  Women usually only did that if they were divorced or widowed, possibly spinsters."  She started to shake her head as a smile grew on her face.  "Damn, I didn't think about that.  If we're going to pretend to be married, then you will have to do the financial business.  This really sucks."

            "Careful, Sara.  I bet ladies didn't curse or swear either, at least not in public."  Grissom's smile reflected the amusement he was feeling at her realization.

            "No, they wouldn't – in public that is."  She stepped back and waved him on.  He grabbed the kit and headed toward the jewelry store.

            As he approached the small building, he mentally worked out a scenario that included their being robbed.  Their kit, however, holding the jewels of course, left untouched.  After a lengthy hour, he stepped from inside the building out into the fading sunlight.  He searched for Sara, hoping to see her in the same place he'd left her.  He couldn't see her by the tree and wondered if maybe she'd decided to go off on her own again.  Only one way to find out, he thought as he traversed the street heading towards where he'd last seen her.  He approached the tree and darted a quick glance around.  She wasn't within sight.  Letting out a soft groan, he dropped the kit to the ground and started to sit next to the tree when he heard a faint rustling.  He turned to his left, looking around the tree and came face to face with Sara.

            "You're back.  Sorry, I didn't hear you."  She said, rubbing her eyes sleepily.  "I must've fallen asleep."

            "I guess so.  I was about to start cursing you."  Grissom chuckled.

            "Why?" she quizzed.

            "I thought maybe you'd gotten another idea in your head and traipsed off somewhere in search of clothes or food or something."  He grinned at her, noting her affronted gaze.

            "Do you always think the worst of me?  I do have a brain and can think for myself you know.  Or is this time period affecting your mind now?" she retorted.  He wasn't fooled, however, as he saw she was holding back a smile.

            Before he could reply, she stood and stretched.  "You know, what I think now, is that we need to find some place where we can get some food and an actual bed."  She leaned over and held out her hand for him, offering to help him up.  He eyed it for a minute, wondering if she might have something up her sleeve.  He chided himself for the thought and reached for her hand, grasping it securely, just in case she decided to pull it away at the last minute.

            He got to his feet then bent to retrieve the field kit when it hit him that she hadn't released his hand yet.  He looked back up at her while he was still bent half way over then eyed their hands intertwined.   "Umm, Sara.  You can let go now."

            She shook her head.  "We're married right.  We need to at least have some appearance of it."

            He grabbed the kit and stood to face her again.  "If what I know about this time period, and although it's not as much as you, I can probably bet that public affection was looked down upon."  His eyebrow rose, daring her to disagree.  He waited as she searched his face then she abruptly let go of his hand.

            "Fine.  No public displays," she harrumphed then spun around and headed off.

            "Sara," he called.  She turned around, waiting for him.  He nodded in the opposite direction.  She sighed heavily as she walked to him.  When she didn't stop and continued past him, he quipped softly, "You have a brain, Sara… a beautiful one, but you don't know everything."  


	4. Chapter III

            An unpleasant smell tickled Sara's nose.  It was made up of ale, smoke and sweat from men in an age where bathing was a rarity.  She heard the whiny voice of the innkeeper once again tell Grissom that there were no rooms available -mumbling to himself 'at least not for the likes of him, an American'.  Having had enough of the man's surliness, she reached out for Grissom's arm, laying her hand on it serenely.  With a false smile lifting the corners of her mouth, she quietly but loudly enough to be heard, said, "Dr. Grissom.  If this man is not willing to lend out a room for the night then perhaps we should go elsewhere with our coin.  I am sure someone would be willing to accept 'good' money."

            Grissom turned to her with a look of astonishment on his face, but she, after glancing his way briefly, stared past him at the snotty innkeeper.  His mouth was ajar, gaping at her.  The word _doctor_ must have registered some finite intelligence in the man's little brain.  "Er, uh, Doctor Grissom.  Perhaps we have a private room that would be available.  It's a bit more expensive but it is really the only room available tonight."

            Grissom swiveled back to meet the man's eyes.  He nodded toward the man, asking, "And how much would you be charging us for this 'private' room?"

            "Er, umm, it," the man stumbled on his words.  Sara lost all attention on the rude man and what he was telling Grissom as she scanned the room behind her.  For a woman that used Nonoxinal-9 on everything in sight when traveling, she was going to have a tough time staying in a place such as this.  She'd be bathing at every chance.  Silence behind her made her turn back with concern to Grissom, she watched as the innkeeper disappeared into a back room.  She was about to ask him where the man had gone when he suddenly reappeared next to them.  "If you'll follow me, please, I'll show you to your room, Dr. and Mrs. Grissom."

            Sara waited a moment until she realized that Grissom was waiting for her - just as a gentleman should.  She followed the innkeeper up the stairs and down the long hallway to a room situated at the end of the corridor.  He opened it with a squeak and waited for her and Dr. Grissom to enter.  Her stomach rumbled reminding Sara they hadn't eaten.  She met Grissom's gaze and asked him, "Would you please ask them to provide a small meal?"  She then turned back to the rest of the room as she heard Grissom repeat her request.  It would have been improper for her to ask the innkeeper herself in Grissom's presence.  The door closed and she finally allowed herself to relax.

            Too tired to even think about what might be on the bed, she flung herself backwards on it and closed her eyes.  A candle, near the wash basin at the far end of the bed, softly lit the room.  The light flickered gently as a result of the draft emanating from the poorly shut small window.   Even with her eyes closed, she sensed the room had darkened quite perceptibly.  She opened them again to see Grissom looming over her - his face unreadable in the darkness.

            "Sara, how are you feeling?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed.  She had an urge to slide away but held her ground.  They were going to have to share the bed soon anyway.  She was now able to see his face clearly and saw the worry etched on it.

            "I'm all right, just very tired.  My head is starting to throb slightly as well."  She began to massage the side of her head as she mentioned it.  The bed jostled slightly as Grissom moved forward and placed his hands on top of hers and on the other side of her head.  She immediately dropped her hand at his warm touch.  His body, nearly fully over her, was taut as he held himself up while massaging her temples.  "Hmm, I could get used to this, Dr. Grissom."

            "I'm sure you could, Mrs. Grissom," he rejoined.  She had closed her eyes as he massaged her temples but she couldn't help looking up into his eyes when he called her _Mrs. Grissom.  The sound of his voice caressed her as the words rolled off his tongue.  He had no idea what feelings that name stirred in her.  She sighed contentedly as he continued his ministrations.  It didn't continue for long._

            They were interrupted by a knock at the door.  Grissom rose slowly, trying not to jostle the bed in an attempt to keep Sara's headache from worsening.  He answered the door and was greeted by a serving maid carrying a tray laden with meat, cheese, bread and fruit, along with two cups and a decanter.  She bobbed a curtsy and then entered the room as he held the door open for her.  Her eyes darted to Sara as she set the tray on the table.  Sara slowly rose from the bed, clutching at her head as the pain worsened.  The girl, knowing her station, asked softly, "Does the missus need anything?  Perhaps some headache powder?"

            Sara squinted at the girl as she awaited an answer.  "That would be greatly appreciated.  I thank you for your kindness and forethought."  The maid curtsied again and left the room.  

            Before she could stand to move towards the table to eat, she felt Grissom approach and then sit next to her.  "Are you sure you're okay?  You don't look like it or sound like it," he asked, his voice smooth and tender.

            "I'm okay, Gris.  We haven't eaten for a couple of days, at least not anything nutritional.  I just need some food and then sleep."  It wasn't until then that she looked up to meet his gaze.  She had to be mistaken.  She could swear she saw love in the dark blue depths.  Not the passionate, lustful sort of love, but the tender, caring and endearing look of love.

            It must have been too much for him, too much emotion, because he looked away quickly then stood and walked to the table.  He removed the white cloth from over the food and took a piece of meat before seating himself.  Sara slowly but steadily made her way over to the table, and sat across from him.  Choosing a couple of pieces of cheese and fruit, she munched lightly on them while eyeing the meat.  "I forgot how much meat they ate.  I'm going to have a tough time getting around that."

            Grissom glanced back at her then chose another piece of meat as he mused aloud, "Your performance was quite compelling earlier.  You must've done some extensive reading to get that lexis correct."

            At first, Sara wasn't sure what he'd meant until it hit her that he must have meant her interruption with the innkeeper.  A smile lit her face.  "Yes, extensive," she dead-panned.  Watching his head turn so fast almost made her dizzy.  She pointed to him as she choked out on a laugh, "You should see your face.  It wasn't that much Gris, I read to escape sometimes.  I didn't research it.  I haven't actually read one in quite a while and before that was back in college."

            Grissom joined in the laughter then they fell into a companionable silence as they finished the food and wine provided for them.  The maid returned with the powder and Sara asked her if she knew when the next public conveyance would be in.  The maid responded that there would be one in the morning since the drivers were spending the night there.  Sara nodded to her then dismissed the maid to return to her chores.  She took the bottle of powder and deciding that she'd probably not like the taste, she added some to her wine.

            At first, Sara thought she'd gained some of her wind back but as soon as she stood she felt her body become lead and her feet had to drag her over to the bed.  She was about to climb up on it when she felt a hand on her back, steadying her.  Grissom reached in front of her to pull back the covers then he held her elbow as she started to lie down.  He removed her shoes and laid them at the foot of the bed as she slid her feet under the covers.  He was again at her side before she could reach for the blankets, tucking her in.  She turned on her side facing the middle and started to drift off.  Sitting on the bed next to her he lightly traced her cheek as he watched her eyes close.  "Thank you," she whispered drowsily.

            "You're welcome.  Mrs. Grissom."  A smile played on her lips from his repetition of the name.  After a few moments, Sara felt the bed jostle again.  Turning to her other side, she watched him pull out the clothes from the field kit and make a pillow of them on the floor.  "Grissom, no.  We've slept the last two nights in each other's arms on the hard ground.  Does sleeping in a bed with me really disturb you that much?"  He opened his mouth to argue, but she interrupted him.  "Come to bed, Dr. Grissom," she said, in a voice that would brook no argument.

            Not wanting to evoke any more fear in him, Sara remained facing the middle of the room as Grissom went around the bed and quickly divested himself of his clothes.  She felt the added weight on the bed and the cool draft of air as he lifted the sheet.  He scooted further down under the covers and Sara fought the urge to turn over to face him.  She knew that most marriages of the time, especially in the higher echelon, didn't sleep in the same bed.  But she wasn't about to let him in on that fact.  If he figured it out later, fine.  But for now, she wanted him to get used to having her in his bed.  A smile crept up her face as he blew out the candle and darkness fell over them.

            Sara's sudden movements awoke her as she was in the middle of a swift kick of the covers.  She was hot, very hot.  The last two nights she'd had to keep warm by curling against Grissom's side, but now she had a sheet and a rather heavy quilt covering her.  Not to mention the clothes she'd been wearing.  Remembering that Grissom had undressed before joining her, she quietly rolled out of the bed and removed the hot and itchy dress.  Her body temperature immediately decreased several degrees.  Wearing only her panties and her bra, she sighed with relief before climbing back into the bed.

            "Feel better?"  Grissom's soft voice startled her.  She'd thought he was still asleep.

            "Much.  I was so damn hot," she replied just as softly. "I'm sorry if I woke you.  Was it my kicking the covers or my getting out of bed that did it?" she asked dryly.

            "Actually, it was the talking in your sleep that woke me."  She could hear the smile hidden amongst his words.

            "I do not talk in my sleep," she countered sheepishly.

            She waited for a reply but he didn't come back with anything to confirm whether she had been or not.  Trying to remember what she'd been dreaming, she thought about the many times she'd wake up much the same way.  Except, in those moments, her kicking and her sweating were due to the erotic images in her dreams - the ones in which Grissom visited her.  "What, umm, what did I say?"

            "Nothing."

            Shit, shit, shit.  What did I say?  She couldn't remember her dream and she was wishing in this instance that it really was just the heat that had woken her up.  "Please tell me," she squeaked out.

            "I don't think I've ever heard you call me by my first name before."  Amusement was definitely laced within his words this time.

            It wasn't the heat.  Sara groaned then slowly pulled the covers over her head and buried herself under them, hiding from her embarrassment.  She was sure that his name wasn't the only thing she'd said.

            "Sara? Sara?  Come on."  Grissom soothed but stifling a laugh, tugging on the blanket to try to uncover his faux wife.  "If you continue to bury yourself in there, you're going to get too hot again."  He was holding back his laughter and Sara had never been so tempted to smother another person in her life.  He was getting enjoyment out of her discomfiture.

            She threw back the covers and sat up, facing the head of the bead, her feet tucked under her.  "I just, er, I was having a bad dream," she huffed, her exhale of breath blowing the hair in her face out of the way.

            "It didn't sound like a _bad_ dream to me," he chuckled.

            With a guttural moan, she grabbed her pillow and swung to where she thought his head was located.  Hearing a grunt, she knew she'd met her target.  But the pillow was grabbed from the other end and pulled out of her grasp, sending her falling forward until she landed on his chest.  She tried to pull herself away as he grasped her left arm and his other arm supported her back, holding her captive against him.

            "Sara, don't move."  She halted immediately at his gruff voice.  It soon was apparent to her why he didn't want her to move.  While her body was held against him, her legs straddled his left leg.  She could feel the hot length of his arousal.

            She attempted to lift herself away but he held her still.  She felt even more embarrassed this time, but not for herself alone.  They were both in an awkward situation, to say the least.  What could she do?  He had a grip on her that was vice-like.  An image of them rolling around in the bed came to her from a previous dream.  The thought of doing what she'd done in the dream brought a flash of heat to her face and she was glad that he couldn't see it.  But somewhere, deep inside, she found the courage to put action to her thoughts.  She slowly drew her leg upwards as she slithered her body along his.  A gasp escaped his lips as he released his hold slightly.  His breath felt hot against her face as she felt him exhale raggedly.

            His reaction to the touch of her body urged her onward, motivating her to take the next step.  She tilted her head down until their lips barely touched.  Before she could deepen the feather light kiss, his grip tightened once again and he gently pushed her back.  That was her cue.  She tugged herself backwards and he released his grasp.

            Now, lying on her side of the bed, she turned to face the middle of the room, tucking her hand under her head with a frustrated sigh.  She heard a faint rustle from his side then felt a hand on her bare shoulder.  "Sara, I'm sorry.  I just," he sighed heavily.

            "It's all right, Grissom," she murmured, pausing briefly before saying, "at least I know you aren't _disinterested_ like I thought you were."

            With just as much frustration in his sigh, she heard him say, "That I can guarantee.  I'm definitely not disinterested."

            ACTIVITY OUTSIDE their window woke them a few hours later.  They could hear the neighing and snorting of the horses and the stomping of their hooves as they were being hitched to a carriage, discerned only by the calls of the stable hands.  Sara struggled to move, her muscles were sore from the walk they'd had the previous day and she couldn't quite seem to lift herself from the bed.  She was plenty warm, but not hot and all she wanted was to snuggle further into that warmth.  Her eyes opened, wide and round, recognizing that the warmth was due to Grissom's warm body curled against hers and the reason she couldn't move was because his arm covering her, weighted her down.

            A sharp call from a stable hand startled Grissom slightly and he turned away from her.  She took that moment of freedom to stand and find her dress on the floor.  The morning sun filtered into the room, barely giving enough light for her to see by.  Grissom, she could see was still asleep.  The stable hand's call had not roused him enough to come fully awake.  She went to the small window on his side of the bed and peered out to see the carriage.  It wasn't a private one.  She could see what appeared to be mail bags tossed up onto the top of the conveyance.  This was the carriage they would need to get into London.

            She hastily turned and knelt on the bed to tug on Grissom's shoulder as she said loudly, "Grissom, wake up.  Grissom, come on, wake up.  The carriage is going to be leaving."

            At the mention of the carriage, he sat up and looked about the room in a daze.  Sara stifled a laugh at his disheveled appearance, his hair turned every which way.  The sound from her snort drew his attention.  "Did you say something about a carriage?"

            She nodded and answered, "Yes, it's being loaded now.  We need to hurry if we're going to catch it."  Leaning over, she picked up his trousers and his shirt, tossing them on the bed.  Leaving a befuddled Grissom, she found her shoes and put them on.  When she looked toward Grissom, he was already dressed and walking around the bed towards her.

            They had no time for reflections on the events of the night, or morning as it were.  They checked themselves in the mirror, smoothing down their hair and walked out of the room.  Grissom hurried back in to retrieve the forgotten field kit and took one last look at the room.  In case they were able to make it back to their own time, he didn't want to forget the memories they were making here.

            Sara waited outside while Grissom paid the driver.  Hearing the door open behind her, she turned, expecting to see him but instead found a lovely, older woman departing the Inn.  Her dress must have cost a fortune, Sara thought.  The woman smiled at her and she returned it in kind.  Grissom appeared then with the driver and they boarded the carriage, the older woman joining them with her maid.  The older woman, undoubtedly of higher rank, was allowed to enter the carriage before them and took the seat facing forward.  They soon were allowed to follow and took the seat opposite her, facing the rear so that they were riding backwards.  Not having been introduced to her, Sara remained quiet and Grissom followed her lead.  More than likely the older woman would not speak to them as they were dressed as lowly peasants.  

            An hour into their ride and Sara began to wish she'd relieved herself before leaving the Inn.  Her bladder felt as though it would burst at any moment.  Peering over to Grissom, she saw his jaw tense and wondered if he weren't experiencing the same problem.

            They were making a steep climb on a hill when the carriage unexpectedly lurched forward, throwing Grissom and Sara forward.  Then there were a couple of loud yells and the sound of wrenching metal and wood.  The front portion of the carriage dropped hard to the ground, dragged along the road by the horses until the tethers snapped.  The carriage toppled over on its side and shrieks billowed out from the inside of the carriage as it began to roll down the side of the hill, followed by an eerie silence. 


	5. Chapter IV

            A familiar smell of copper awoke Grissom.  He at first thought he'd dreamed their travels to the past, but when he opened his eyes, he was chagrined to find it was all too real.  Something had happened to the carriage.  That he could remember.  What he didn't know was what had happened after.  He looked up and saw blue sky within a jagged outline and then he saw the seats of the carriage.  His gaze fell to the bodies next to him and spotted Sara lying in a heap with the other woman.  Neither of them was moving.

            He struggled to sit up and moved toward them. He nudged Sara, hoping she'd wake, but her head only bobbed a little.  When she didn't immediately respond, he grasped her chin with one hand and with the other he cradled the back of her neck.  He felt something sticky and pulled his hand away.  She was bleeding again, but this time from the back.  He fought back the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat.  Now was not the time to panic, but the idea that she'd hurt her head again was a factor he couldn't ignore.  He felt for her pulse and found it to be strong and steady.  Her breathing was a little shallow but that could be attributed to the weight from the other woman.

            When he began to look over the other woman, he could see the blood pooling on what was once the roof of the carriage, now it was the floor.   With a trembling hand, he felt for the carotid artery in her neck; her pulse was faint and her breathing was undetectable.  Quickly gathering his wits, he stood as well as he could in the cramped space and opened the door, which was now upside down.  He jumped out and that's when he saw the maid.  She'd been thrown from the carriage.  Her limp form was now mangled with a log.  When he turned back to the carriage and reached in to pull the woman out, he noticed Sara was starting to wake up.

            She called out hoarsely, "Grissom?"

            "I'm right here, Sara.  Are you alright?  Can you move?"  He held his breath as he awaited a reply from her.  She groaned but nodded when she met his gaze.  He breathed easier when he saw her finally move forward.  "Do you think you can lift her a bit as I pull her out?"

            She carefully lifted the woman by her shoulders and pushed her toward Grissom.  He was then able to get a better hold on her and pulled her through the door and away from the wreckage.  He yelled over his shoulder, "Stay there.  I'll be right back for you."  After placing the woman on the ground, he started to rush back to the carriage but saw that Sara had already found her way out.

            Seeing that Sara's injuries were not an immediate threat, he turned back to the more critically injured.  His gaze was diverted momentarily as he saw the drivers of the carriage in the distance, trying to make their way down the hill.

            He knelt next to the woman, further assessing her injuries.  Her breathing had become more pronounced if not slightly ragged.  Given the amount of blood seeping from a wound in her arm, he suspected an artery was severed.  Removing a piece of the torn clothing covering her wound, he saw the deep gash and the jagged piece of wood stuck in it.   Swiveling on one knee he looked back to the carriage but couldn't see Sara.  Before his heart could feel a grip of fear around it, he heard the tear of fabric behind him.  He turned back around to see Sara tearing a strip of cloth from the woman's petticoat.  She handed it to him.  "Use this to stop the bleeding," she directed, while also taking a closer look at the wound.

            Attempting to staunch the flow of blood and then remove the splinter of wood, his mind raced with the ramifications of his actions.  The woman could've possibly bled to death and here he was trying to repair the damage.  History would possibly be changed.  Yet, he still didn't hesitate in his actions.  He couldn't let a woman die.  Not when he had the power to help her.  Looking into Sara's face, he asked, "Would you please tear a couple more strips?  We'll need to make a tourniquet."

            "Sure."  Her response still sounded a bit dazed but she never faltered in her steps as she went to tear more cloth from the petticoat.   "Grissom.  It looks like she might have a broken leg.  It's twisted at a weird angle, not too bad though."

            "We'll deal with that as soon as we get the bleeding under control.  Hopefully, she won't wake up anytime soon."  He reached for the strips of cloth Sara handed him and then tied them on the arm above the wound.

            It was several minutes before he felt he'd gotten the blood flow under control.  He gazed at the leg now and knew it was broken.  Sara had been right.  It would have to be set.  The drivers arrived at that moment and they helped him set the leg.

            While they worked, Grissom noted Sara's return from the carriage, blanket and other items in her arms.  She handed him the blanket.  As always, she was anticipating his needs.  With the dew moist ground and the loss of blood, the injured woman would be exceptionally cold.  Taking it from her hands, he draped it over the woman.   His concern then moved from one patient to the other.  Sara visibly shook, shivering either from the cold or from the shock.  Not able to provide any further comfort for the woman lying on the ground, he knew he could comfort the woman ever present by his side.  Rising, he gently wrapped her in his arms —his body providing the warmth and strength hers craved. 

            The drivers had discussed the situation and one had left to get help.  Before he could reach the road, all heads turned in his direction as they heard an approaching carriage.  It came to an abrupt halt and a man stepped out from it and walked to the driver.  During the conversation that ensued, the driver pointed to the wrecked carriage and to Grissom and Sara.  The man ran toward them, stumbling over rocks.  By the time he reached them, he was out of breath.   When he saw the injured woman, his manner suddenly changed from hurried to sedate.  He knelt next to her and reached out to caress her cheek tenderly.

            Grissom immediately noticed the resemblance between the man and the woman.  He could only guess that they were related in some way, possibly mother and son.  The young man — Grissom had to correct himself.  He guessed him to be in his early to mid thirties, roughly Sara's age, and so was not really a young man.  He watched him stand and then looked toward the maid.  He walked over to her, staring down at the woman with great depth of emotions on his face.  Finally accepting that she had not survived the crash, he took off his jacket and covered her face with it. After a few more moments, he approached them.

            He offered his hand and Grissom grasped it firmly while his other hand remained around Sara's waist.  "Thank you for your assistance in the care of my mother.  I understand you were also involved in this accident.  Are you all right?"  His eyes darted from Grissom to Sara.

            "Thank you for inquiring about our welfare.  We were in the carriage when it careened over the edge of that hill.  My, my wife, Mrs. Grissom, does have an injury to her head but your mother sustained a deep gash to her arm, which had been bleeding profusely and her right leg is broken.  We were able to stop the bleeding from her arm and then set her leg.  We still need to splint it, however."

            "From the work you did on my mother, it would be hard not to assume you're a doctor," the gentleman said coaxingly.

            "I am.  Dr. Gilbert Grissom.  But I dabble more in science than in medicine."

            "My mother was to have returned yesterday.  When she didn't, I feared something had happened.  It seems to be a curse that tragedy always befalls the females of my family.  I grow uneasy when my mother travels.  This time I was proved correct.  Again, I thank you for your intervention.  Were you headed to London?  You are from America, are you not?"

            "As a matter of fact, we were and yes, we are."  Grissom noticed the gentleman looking them over.  Their state of dress did not befit a doctor or his wife.  His mind worked double time and he suddenly found himself creating a story that would be plausible for all ears.  "We decided on a honeymoon in England but during our travels, we were accosted."

            The gentleman now nodded in understanding.  "Please, for your help, I would like to offer my assistance.  You and your wife will stay at my home.  It's the least I can do to repay your graciousness."

            "My carriage can easily accommodate you, your wife and my mother.  I would prefer that you remain with her in any case.  You have taken such good care of her injuries as it is."  He motioned for them to walk toward the carriage while he and the driver of the public carriage, now lying in ruins, moved to carry his mother.

            Grissom forestalled them.  "She still needs to have her leg splinted."

            The son let out a grateful sigh and nodded in agreement.  He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck.  "How do you suppose we do that?"

            Grissom swiveled around, taking in a glance of the area.  Leaving Sara for a moment, he walked to the tree log that had caught the body of the maid and after peering around it for a few moments grabbed a bunch of branches.  Using the remaining strips of cloth that Sara had rent from the woman's petticoat, he placed the branches along her leg and twined the cloth around it, securing the twigs firmly in place.  He now stood and nodded toward the two men, "Shall we?"

            It took a good hour before they were once again traveling along the road to their destination -London.  Grissom sat with Sara cradled against his side.  His hand softly stroked her hair and she'd quickly drifted off to sleep.

            Thoughts from the previous night finally caught up to him... _his wife.  Although she wasn't his wife in the legal sense, he couldn't believe that he was allowed to think of her in that way.  For once he wasn't disturbed by it.  He pulled her closer to him, protectively, a smile playing on his lips. _


	6. Chapter V

            Several hours passed by before the carriage came to a halt.  Sara and Grissom were both jolted awake, jumping from the abruptness —the accident still fresh in their minds.

            Grissom quickly checked on the injured woman still asleep on the seat across from him and Sara.  Swiftly furrowing into a frown, his normal mask of detachment disappeared upon his touching her forehead.  At Grissom's reaction, worry etched Sara's face.  Fever was a largely mitigating factor of deaths in this time period due to infection.  She herself was not feeling all that great.

            The door was roughly opened by the driver and the gentleman, both moving a little too quickly for Grissom's liking. He gave them a warning look and directed, "Take her carefully.  She's feverish."  
  


            Upon her removal, Grissom jumped down and offered his hand to Sara to help her out of the carriage.  Her steps were faulty and she tripped while trying to exit, tumbling into Grissom's waiting arms.  Her gaunt appearance was not lost on him.  Bending down swiftly, he picked her up, cradling her to his chest protectively.  Her strength completely vanishing, all she could do was to pull her arm to her own chest, and snuggled as close as she could to him.

            With the help of a footman, he was ushered into the house and up the stairs to a second level.  He surmised that instructions had already been given to their care as they were shown to a guest bedroom.  If he hadn't been so concerned for Sara, he may have realized how lavish and magnificent the room appeared.

            By the time he was able to lay her down on top of the duvet, she was completely out.  His worry increased painfully, like a vise wound tightly around his heart.  He'd assumed that Sara was okay at the accident site and so took care of the other woman.  He hadn't been overly concerned about Sara's condition, until now.

            After arranging her carefully, he began to check systematically for her injuries.  First he felt her extremities for any possible wounds then he moved on to check her pulse and breathing.  Finally, he turned her head and saw the three-inch gash on the back of it —the blood having already dried.  All but the gash seemed fine.

            He'd heard some quiet directions being given from outside the doorway.  A doctor was sent for as well as some refreshments.  His relief drained him to exhaustion.  Even though they were one hundred years in the past, he knew the upper class had access to higher level of medical care.

            Settling on the bed, he glanced over Sara's face as the serenity of sleep masked her pain.  He exhaled on a sigh, running a hand through his curls and down the back of his neck.  The fact she was sleeping lent him a confidence he didn't normally feel around her and he allowed himself some freedom from it.  His left hand grasped hers while he reached up with his other to trail a finger down her cheek then to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear only to return to her cheek.  Cupping it gently, he felt her warmth seep into his palm.

            He had a perfect view of her face, his frown of worry now fading into a small smile.  For once he could allow himself the pleasure of studying it, memorizing its every feature.  His hand trailed down her slender neck.

            The quiet entry of the doctor broke his spell of enchantment. Grissom reluctantly rose and stepped away from the bed as the doctor came closer, setting his bag on the night stand.

            The conversation between them was direct and to the point.  He watched attentively while the doctor examined her, quite like he had done earlier.  The doctor's quiet but efficient manner gave Grissom assurance of his competency.

            After a few moments, the doctor motioned with a nod toward the door and they stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind them.  The doctor's deep voice broke into the silence of the hallway, "Your wife is just sleeping, although deeply —exhaustion the major factor.  The injury on her head has caused a concussion, but with rest for several days, she should be fine.  There will be some aches and pains from the wound and from the bruising; therefore I left a vial of laudanum to help her rest."

            "Thank you.  I'm grateful for your attention to her.  Is the other woman all right?"

            The doctor frowned for a moment.  "If you hadn't stopped her bleeding, she'd be dead now.  You took appropriate action that I would say led to her life being saved.  I'm sure Lord Wentworth is grateful to you for your help.  The Countess Wentworth will do fine with extended rest, as long as the bandaging is kept dry and clean.  But I'm sure you already you know this.  I'll stop in again tomorrow to check on them both."  With that, he nodded and left.

            Grissom stared after the quiet mannered man then turned to stare at the bedroom door.  He wasn't sure about the etiquette in this situation.  Hell, he wasn't sure about anything in this time.  If he understood the doctor correctly, then the gentleman was titled, Lord Wentworth and his mother, the Countess.

            Should he remain with Sara or seek out their… what should he call him?  Host?  Benefactor?  He sighed.  What he really wanted was to just go back to Sara but something nagged inside his mind that he should probably find this Lord Wentworth and speak with him.  He couldn't fail to notice that the one more knowledgeable in this area was the one person lying quietly, sleeping not more than ten feet away.  With a heavy sigh, he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs.

            He was led into the Study by whom he considered to be the butler.  The Lord, who'd been sitting behind the desk at the far end of the room, stood hastily and walked around it to greet Grissom.  It had been a long day and Lord Wentworth had divested himself of his jacket and tie —the dishevelment lending him a very grief-stricken appearance.  "Are you quite all right, Dr. Grissom?"

            They each grasped the other's hands, giving a brisk shake before Lord Wentworth motioned for Grissom to take a seat in the wingback chair.  "I believe I am all right. Just a bit tired.  I wanted to check with you on arrangements for myself and my… wife.  Is there perhaps an establishment nearby we would be able to rent a room?"

            "Oh, no, Dr. Grissom, please be assured.  You are welcome to stay here as long as necessary.  Out of gratitude for your help and attention to my mother, I would be honored if you were to stay here as my guests and allow me to return the kindness to you and your wife.  And in this case, I must insist."

            Again, not sure of what was expected of him, Grissom nodded in agreement.  The two gentlemen shook hands then Lord Wentworth asked, "Is there anything you or your wife need?  I understand that neither you nor your wife had any baggage on the carriage."

            Grissom sat back in his chair, prepared to tell him the story that he and Sara concocted.  He didn't like lying to his benefactor and although the circumstances warranted it, he hesitated in the retelling.  "We were accosted on our way to London.  Our baggage and monies were taken.  The only thing left was one case which was overlooked.  Thankfully, since it contained all of my wife's jewels.  We had exchanged a few of them to obtain a room for the night and then the carriage.  I was advised to exchange the others upon arrival in London."

            "It would seem that the two of you weren't shown the best of English hospitality.  I will have to redeem my country's reputation then.  You've set me a challenge."  Lord Wentworth smiled.

            Grissom smiled in kind then asked, "When Sara, my wife, has recovered a bit, I would like to get her some other items of clothing to wear, and of course, some for myself as well.  Would you mind pointing us in the right direction?"

            "It would be my privilege to do so.  If you wouldn't mind, I would also like to pick your brain about a few experiments I have been performing."  Lord Wentworth spoke as he poured an amber colored liquid into a couple of snifters.  Grissom guessed the liquid to be brandy.  He handed one to Grissom before taking his seat again.  "I dabble a bit in science.  My obsession since I was a boy has been in insects.  Do you have much knowledge with the species?"

            Grissom nearly choked on the swig of brandy he'd been taking.  What luck for he and Sara to be holed up with a man of science.  But he'd have to remember not to say too much.  They were after all in the past, over one hundred years in the past.  "I know a little."

            "Good, good.  Perhaps with your help, we two can figure out what I'm doing wrong," his voice fading slightly as his attention seemed to be drawn to the door.  "Yes, Billings.  What is it?"

            "M'lord, Dr. Grissom's wife has awakened and was looking for him," Billings explained.

            Grissom stood hurriedly.  Thrilled to hear that Sara was awake, he forgot in his haste to thank Lord Wentworth for the brandy as he left the room.  If he'd turned back to look at the man, he'd have seen a knowing smile on his face.

            Blinking slowly, Sara turned to look at the time on her alarm clock.  It was dark outside and she began to think she was late for work.  Her eyes weren't focusing well and she winced from the pain in her head… and her shoulder and her hip and her chest.  She felt like she'd gotten hit by a Mac truck.  She tried again to see the time but soon realized that her alarm clock wasn't on her night stand.  And the night stand wasn't hers either.  She turned again to take in the room, and once again winced at the pain the movement caused.  A fire was blazing in the fireplace and the bed was huge.  The curtains were closed but no light seeped in through the cracks.

            Remembering the last few days, she sighed then tried to sit up, groaning audibly with pain.  Her eyes darted around the room in search of Grissom but he was nowhere to be seen.  She tentatively placed her feet on the floor, unsteadily standing on them.  Holding onto one of the posts of the bed, she let her mind find its equilibrium before taking a shaky step to the door.  When she opened it, a soft gasp greeted her.  A woman was sitting across the hallway, facing her room.  She'd looked up at Sara then dropped the item she'd been holding in her lap to the floor as she stood.

            The woman approached and put her arm under Sara's to steady her.  "You really shouldn't be up, Mrs. Grissom.  You've had a very bad accident and you're hurt."

            If Sara's head hadn't hurt so much she would have snapped it up in reaction to what the woman had called her.  It was strange hearing it on another person's lips, as if it were true.

            "Now, let's just get you back into bed and I'll go find your husband for you."  The woman was only being kind, but Sara wanted so badly to stuff a sock in her mouth.  The sweetness of her tone was too nauseating.  She wasn't helpless yet the woman acted as if she were.  What did she think?  That she couldn't move without her husband's help?  The realization of where she was and who was talking dawned on her.  She bit her tongue and settled back into the bed, this time under the covers that the woman had pulled down for her.

            After she was settled, the woman left, promising to fetch Dr. Grissom for her.  She'd never imagined what it would be like to be called Mrs. Grissom but she knew now that she could get used to it.  The pain in her head became a steady throbbing and she wished for more than anything to have a couple of ibuprofen or even just plain aspirin to stop it.  She reached up to feel the area where the center of the pain came from.  When she touched it, she could also feel the encrusted blood on her hair around he wound.  She began then to wonder what she must look like.   Her appearance, not normally important to her, was now a concern.  Maybe that's why the woman seemed to think I wasn't capable of walking.  _Do I really look that bad?_

            She had no more time to consider that thought as the door opened and an out-of-breath Grissom spilled into the room.  She wondered what the urgency was.

            "You're… awake," he rasped between breaths.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand clasped hers while his eyes roamed over her face.  "How are you feeling?"

            "A little shaky and my head hurts.  Why are you breathing so hard?  Were you in a hurry?"  She couldn't help but be confused and it grew in intensity when she saw the concern in Grissom's face turn into a smile.

            "Yes, I was in a hurry.  You passed out in my arms.  I was a little worried about you."  Grissom's voice held an edge of exasperation in it.

            "Oh.  You were worried, about me?"  Sara was astonished.

            "Of course I was worried.  You were pale, there was blood on my hand from the back of your head and you passed out.  Why don't you think I'd be worried?" he asked.  It wasn't a rhetorical question but Sara didn't know how to answer it.  She just shrugged and dropped her head, not meeting his gaze.

            "Sara?"  She felt his finger under her chin. "I've never been that worried for anyone before.  You frightened me."  His voice was low, almost a whisper.  She looked up to see his eyes shining with brilliancy, glinting with the flickering light from the fireplace.

            "I'm okay, Grissom.  Really."  She reached up a hand to his cheek, cradling it tenderly.  His free hand covered hers and held it to his face then turned and placed a kiss into her palm.  Shivers coursed through her body and she trembled from the sensation.  He pulled her forward, hugging her gently.  At first the sensation was overwhelming her but she soon found the warmth of his embrace soothing.  They held each other for a moment then he released her gently, laying her back against the pillows.

            Grissom cleared his throat then asked, "Your head is hurting?  Is it bad, do you want something for it?"

            Her eyes grew large.  "You wouldn't happen to have some ibuprofen on you?"

            He shook his head with a grimace.  "No, sorry, I don't.  The doctor who examined you earlier left some laudanum for you to take.  It should take the edge off so that you can sleep through the night."

            "No, I don't want to take that.  I feel fuzzy enough as it is."  She could deal with the pain.  She had to keep her wits about her though, especially with Grissom so near all the time now.

            "Are you sure?  You wouldn't have to take very much."  He'd asked her with such care in his voice.  She began to wonder if she wasn't already in some drug induced state.

            "No, it's all right.  But if you're worried about me going to sleep, I would sleep better if you'd lie down with me."  _Yep, that's it.  I'm in some kind of drug induced state.  Where did I come up with that?  She mentally shook herself for her lack of control.  She was drawn out of her haze when Grissom's lips turned up into a smile._

            He gave her hand a quick squeeze before he stood.  He hesitated a moment as his gaze wavered on the fireplace, the only light in the room.  Striding toward it, he stooped over for one of the stokers then started to work on the embers.  The flames shot up with urgency, licking up to the ceiling of the cavern that held it contained.  She watched him, her eyes droopy with fatigue and he must have sensed her weariness for he glanced at her quickly before putting the stoker in its place by the grate.    Shuffling to the other side of the bed, he kicked off his shoes then turned back the covers while Sara slid further under them.  She waited while he finished undressing down to his boxers and t-shirt.  When he climbed into bed, she turned on her side and curled up next to him.  He gathered her close, melding her body to his side.

            She hadn't lied.  Falling asleep in his arms was easy.  A few heartbeats and breaths away, she drifted off into a deep slumber, her mind swirling with dreams of romantic rendez-vous, of horse-drawn carriages and candle-lit interludes.


	7. Chapter VI

A/N:  Thanks to all those that have reviewed.  I really do appreciate hearing from you.  This is a short chapter but I hope you like it anyway.  The next chapter… Sara's thoughts about Grissom's transformation.

Oh, and big thanks to Marlou/Ghibli for beta'ing.  Love your help!

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            For the first time in quite some time, Sara awoke drowsy.  Normally, a few hours of sleep and she'd be bouncing around her apartment getting ready for work.  Now, her head felt like a sledge hammer had met it personally.  The events of the past few nights once again met up with her synapses.  She struggled for some sense of reality but could only hear the soft breathing coming from Grissom behind her.  She turned onto her back to look at him.  Her movements caused a moan to tumble from her lips and woke him.  He blinked the sleep from his eyes, and then sat up quickly.  "Are you all right?"

            "No."  Her quick reply elicited some quick movements on his part as he stumbled out of the bed.  She could just make out his form from the dim light the curtains allowed in.  His feet giving a tell-tale sign he was walking around the bed, and then she heard him fumble with what she assumed was a box on the nightstand at her side of the bed.  A quick flash of sulfur and the match was lit.  As soon as the candle was lit, he glanced over her features.  His concerned look was all she needed to know that she looked as bad as she felt.

            "How's your head?" he asked.  She grimaced and he nodded.  "I'm going to give you some of this laudanum.  I think you need to sleep a bit more, Sara.  Your concussion only got worse with the carriage accident.  I'm surprised you don't have a cracked rib or two."  He'd grabbed the small bottle of the laudanum, turning it over in his hand thoughtfully.

            "Griss?"  She reached out for his arm, gripping it tentatively.  "I really don't want to take that stuff.  It's a narcotic.  It can be highly addictive."  Their eyes met for only a moment before he set the bottle back on the nightstand.

Sitting on the bed, he took her hand in his and asked her, "Can you go back to sleep?  You really need to get some more."

            "I know.  I will.  I just… talk to me for a bit.  I'll drift off soon enough."  She stifled a yawn then tugged at the covers.  Grissom grabbed the edges of the top blanket, tucking it up to her chin.

            "What do you want me to talk about?  What will put you to sleep the fastest?" he grinned.

            "How about your bugs?  That should do the trick in no time." she chuckled, while Grissom guffawed.

            SHORTLY AFTER she'd fallen asleep, Grissom left the room and asked the first servant he came across where he could find the Countess.  He couldn't help but to ramble into an explanation as to why he wanted to know.  The servant, a young woman, just nodded understandingly, all the while leading him down a hallway until they reached a closed door.

            "These are her rooms, Dr. Grissom. You will find the missus in here."  She bobbed a curtsy then scuttled away.

            Grissom watched her leave then cautiously knocked on the door.  To his surprise it was opened instantly afterward.  The Earl motioned him inside the room.  Grissom quietly checked over the Countess while the Earl looked on.  She was sleeping soundly and no longer had the fever.  After they stepped outside, Grissom cautioned, "She's not showing any signs of a fever but she should be kept still in any case."

            The Earl nodded then asked, "And how is Mrs. Grissom?"

            "She doesn't take to lying still very well and refuses to take any laudanum but thankfully she is drowsy.  My hope is that she will remain in bed for the rest of the day.  Tomorrow will be another story."

            The Earl chuckled in understanding.  "My sister, Danielle, is of the same disposition and does not take well to sitting still –must always be up and about.  I wonder, is your wife as independent as her disposition indicates her to be?"

            It was Grissom's turn to chuckle.  The Earl was a very observant man.  He couldn't help to think that he'd make a great CSI if he was as good at science.  Running his hand over the nape at the back of his neck, he nodded and groaned, "She is…too much so."

            The Earl waved Grissom toward the stairway and they walked down to the next level.  The butler, Gavrie, held open the doors for them as they passed through.  The Earl clapped Grissom on the shoulder and asked, "Have you breakfasted, Dr. Grissom?"

            "No, I haven't."  Grissom looked toward the man as he continued to lead him through the rooms.

            "Then you can join me.  Afterwards, we'll see what we can do about getting you some new wares, and then if you feel up to it I'll show you my specimens."

            After breakfasting, the Earl ordered the carriage around then ushered Grissom out the door and to his own tailor on Conduit Street.  Grissom couldn't help but feel a little bit on edge as they entered the establishments.  This wasn't his time period.  There were obviously many things that stood out as different.  The one most telling was the lack of female presence on this street.  He'd kept in mind that he wanted to pick up a few items for Sara, but wasn't sure how to approach it.  Were men even allowed into a woman's arena of shopping?  From what he'd seen so far, they didn't appear to be allowed in the male section.  This was completely at odds with his time.

            Hours later, Grissom stepped out onto the busy London street once again.  This time his relief was fired by the realization that they'd finished with their last shop.  He nodded at a young man in greeting as he passed by.  The Earl stepped up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder in camaraderie.  A servant walked around them with several packages in his arms and handed them to the footman.

            "Shall we attend to your wife's needs?  I'm sure she would appreciate a few items.  I know my sister, or my mother wouldn't be able to last a day let alone two or three in the same clothes."  The Earl pressed him forward to the carriage and within moments they were off again.

            By the time they arrived back home, Grissom wanted nothing more than to climb into bed, with or without Sara there, and fall asleep.  He'd tried on so many jackets, cravats, boots, hats and everything else, he thought he would have nightmares to last him the rest of his natural life.  And to top it all off was his lack of knowledge in regard to the societal expectations of the time.  He lost count of how many times he committed some faux pas, only to have the Earl save him by telling the shopkeepers that he was from America.  He had a lot to learn.  Silently, he prayed that Sara would be back to normal soon and would save him from making a further fool of him self.

            He left the Earl to tend to his estate business and ascended the stairs to check on the Countess and then he would check on Sara.  When he reached the Countess' rooms, he knocked lightly to see if anyone was within.  He heard a very faint shuffle and then the door opened, revealing a younger woman.  Her aristocratic bearing leading him to believe she was probably the Earl's sister.  She nodded, inviting him into the room.  He assumed she'd been told who he was.

            Her voice was soft and smooth, as she explained, "I was just sitting with her.  She woke up a couple of hours ago.  She wasn't herself."  Her eyes roamed over her mother with deep concern.

            "No, she probably wouldn't be.  She's on some pretty heavy medication.  But it will help with the pain."  He'd been hoping to find her awake.  Instead of being able to ask her how she felt, he was left with only being able to do a cursory examination, and then he asked the daughter a few questions.  Afterwards, he felt comfortable enough to leave them and headed back to the guest wing where his and Sara's room was located.

            Not wanting to wake her if she was sleeping, he cautiously opened the door and peeked around it, surprised to find she was sitting against the headboard.  A book lay across her lap, but she was staring out the window into the hazy sunshine and didn't hear him enter.  He remained where he was, taking in her appearance.  She looked rested and ready to take on another day.  His eyes roamed over her, taking in the difference from the days before.  Her hair was damp, but not the type of damp from sweat of a fever, rather it was more than likely that she'd had a bath sometime while he was out.  The fact that her hair was damp worried him however, there was a bit of chill in the air and the thought of her getting ill from it moved him to the fireplace.  He bent down, grabbing a stoker to stir the dying embers, and then placed another log onto the new flames.  The shuffling of the bed sheets drew his attention and he looked up to meet Sara's gaze.  Her eyes were beaming from the smile she held for him.  He wondered if she liked his new attire.


	8. Chapter VII

A/N:  Finally, I have finished this chapter.  So many things happening in RL and online, a new forum created, the holiday season is upon us and 2 jobs to keep me busy.  Hope you all enjoy this and I thank everyone for their kind words.  And to anyone who thinks that Grissom and Sara are 'sleeping' together too much, wait for the next chapter.  All good things come to those who wait… patiently!

Thanks to Marlou and LSI for beta'ing and encouraging me to keep going on this fic.

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            Sara rose slowly from her pillowed sanctuary; the intense light from the newly uncovered windows helped in waking her senses.  A maidservant, moments before, had entered the room most likely intent on ensuring that Sara was still resting.  The look of surprise on her face upon seeing Sara's eyes open and staring at the flickering light of her candle sent a chuckle through Sara's throat.  Sara had a part to play and although her head still pounded, she felt she was up for the challenge.  She mumbled to the maid to pull back the drapes then asked her, "Would you be so kind as to fetch me something to eat and drink?"  The maid did as she was asked then left the room with a short curtsy.

            The maid returned with a tray covered with a white cloth.  She sat it upon Sara's lap, asking if there was anything else she would like.  Sara stared over at the window, still squinting from the glaring sunlight.  A thought struck her, "A bath.  I would love to be able to take a hot bath."  The maid again curtsied then left.

            She removed the cloth from the tray and breathed in the wonderful scent of the hot chocolate and warm buns.  She wasn't sure about what the other items were but she could definitely identify meat in at least one of them.  She would be satisfied with the buns and hot chocolate.  Her head was still pounding and she hoped she'd at least be able to keep those two items down.

            Before she was able to complete her repast, a knock at the door kept her from taking another sip of her hot chocolate.  "Come in," she called.

            A head peaked around the door and then entered the room fully.  The woman, possibly only seventeen or eighteen, entered and walked to the side of the bed.  She was a short but petite woman with a grace that bespoke elegance.  The thought crossed Sara's mind that this might be a relative of the Earl and Countess, possibly his sister or cousin.

            "Lily informed me that you had awakened.  I thought that since your husband is out of house that I would check in on you."

            Sara recalled the young woman from the night before and that she'd been the one to help her back into bed when she tried to search out Grissom.

            "Thank you, I appreciate your concern.  You of course know who I am.  May I ask who you are?  We've met twice without any sort of introduction."  Sara smiled kindly, hoping to get some sort of information.

            "I am Danielle.  My brother is Lord Wentworth.  You helped save my mother?"

            The question was not lost on Sara.  The girl was unsure of what she'd heard and wanted confirmation.  "Yes, I did.  It wasn't as much as you might think.  I only helped Gr… my husband with your mother."

            The room became quiet suddenly –neither knowing what else to say.  Sara stared at her tray for a moment and dropped one of the buns back on it, her appetite now slackening.  Danielle must have felt the same uneasiness and shuffled her feet.  Then just as quickly as it had quieted in the room, she became lively with conversation once again.  Rambling on about her brother and what she'd been told.  She came closer to Sara and retrieved the tray from her lap to place it on a dresser.

            Her ramblings soon came to an end.  She huffed and sent a strand of hair flying that had fallen over her face.  With her hands now placed firmly on her hips, she stated, "You were in want of a bath I believe.  I'll check to make sure that it is being prepared.  My brother mentioned that your belongings had been stolen.  I cannot say that I have anything that would fit you but perhaps my mother might have something.  Since you won't be going any further than this room for a while, perhaps just a night shift with a robe will do.  I'll return shortly."  And with that, she flounced in her turn and quit the room.

            Within a shorter amount of time than she'd expected, the bath was poured for her near the fire and the sister and maidservant helped her from the bed over to the bath.  She felt very self-conscious as the maid helped her out of her clothing and into the tub.  Having other persons undress her wasn't something she was used to, but she soon got over that as she sank into the steaming water.  They had scented it with herbs, mainly lavender and rose petals, and the scents wafted up to her nose, relaxing her senses.  She leaned back with a large smile on her face.  The maid left afterward with her clothing to have it washed; at least that's what she thought.

            Sara luxuriated for what seemed like ages in the scented water.  The sister chatted with her from a chair near the fire and it was then that Sara learned where Grissom had gone.  Her eyebrows rose slightly as she listened to the sister, Danielle, tell about how the Earl whisked the 'doctor' off to become properly attired.  Danielle giggled and it soon became infectious.  She couldn't help it.  "It was so much like me and my mother.  Off on another shopping spree.  I can only imagine what your poor husband is going through.  Men just do not appreciate a good venture in shopping."

            Sara couldn't suppress her laughter.  The thought of Grissom, being shuffled from store to store, was just too much to bear.  What was worse, Sara didn't think she would be able to stand it either.   Her laughter stopped when she considered that she'd be next in line, possibly the next day or the day after.  A groan escaped her lips at the prospect.

            "Are you all right?  I suppose you must be getting tired again."

            "I'm quite all right.  I was just thinking about shopping for myself.  I have to confess that shopping is not one of my favorite..." she searched for the word, "favorite past-times."

            Danielle appeared dumbstruck.  She probably didn't know anything else but shopping, visiting friends, tea parties and all the other things that ladies were expected to do in this time.  She reassured her with a quick smile, "Don't get me wrong.  I like shopping but it's not an all-consuming event for me."

            "I can't imagine what else you would find to do.  What is it that you do when your husband is not at home or is away with his work?"  Danielle inquired with great interest.

            Sara had to think hard about this.  What could she tell the young woman without sounding insane?  "Our marriage, I suppose you could say, is a partnership.  I work alongside my husband and we share the same interests."

            "Your marriage then is not arranged?"  Danielle asked incredulously.

            Sara blinked for a moment, not understanding.  Did Danielle think that… oh, the age.  That must be it.  Sara smiled.  She was glad Grissom hadn't been here to hear that.  The fact that they weren't married had to be taken into account.  But Danielle didn't know that.  To Sara, the age difference never mattered.  She loved Grissom even knowing how much older he was.  She paused, _loved Grissom… that was it.  She did love him.  Perhaps not on his part, but she knew that on hers it was a love match.  Grissom was attracted to her, that she knew.  It was proven back at the Inn.  Whether he felt the same about her was another story._

            Seeing that the sister was eyeing her in wonder, Sara responded to her question finally.  "No, it wasn't arranged.  You would call what we have, a love-match.  I've been in love with him since the day we met."

            She could see her answer was not what the girl had expected.  But she had no explanation for it.  It was what it was.

            The water grew cooler and she decided it was time for her to get out.  The maid was called back and helped Sara to rinse off, and then she stepped out of the tub with a bit of shakiness in her legs.  She was tired again.  Not sleepy, but somewhat tired.  The maid gave her a cloth to dry off with and then she donned the new gown that the sister had brought in for her.  Instead of going straight back to bed, she sat in a chair near the fire, letting the warmth seep into her limbs.  To straighten her hair she would need a hairdryer but she wouldn't be finding one of those here.  She'd have to let it just remain in its haphazard curls.  With the cloth, she pressed her hair within it and allowed the heat from the fireplace to help in drying it.  It was actually quite relaxing.

            Danielle sat in the other chair opposite her and they waited for the maid to return with more hot chocolate and some pastries.  After another hour of chatting and nibbling on their mid-day snack, Sara retreated back to the bed and fell asleep almost as quickly as her head hit the pillow.

            Later in the afternoon, she woke again, her head much clearer this time around.  She reached for the bell pull that the sister had pointed out to her and tugged on it once.  Shortly after, the maid entered the room.  She was so glad to be able to empty her bladder and then crawled back into bed.  She wasn't as tired as before and asked the maid if she would be able to fetch something for her to read while she remained resting.  It was no sooner asked then the maid quit the room and returned with a book.  She was informed that it was much favored by Miss Wentworth.  It was of course the time's version of a romance novel.  Sara stifled a giggle as the maid left the room.

            She spent some time reading but soon found her mind drifting off in wonder about how Grissom was faring.  She contemplated the turn in their relationship, not that it had furthered too considerably but still, it had shown some progression.  She stared at the window, wondering what the weather was like.  It appeared warm but she knew England could be quite deceiving.  It wasn't until she heard the scrape of metal and stone that she became aware of someone else in the room.  She shifted and turned her head to see a gentleman near the hearth.  Her heart thumped at first in something close to fear until she realized the figure was familiar.  It was Grissom and he looked, well, he looked absolutely breathtaking.  She exhaled and the sound alerted Grissom to her.  She couldn't help the smile that played up into her eyes.  He looked fabulous.  The midnight blue of his coat contrasting the almost pure white cravat and shirt beneath it gave his blue eyes even more depth.  His trousers were of a camel color with his boots being a slightly darker shade.  "Wow, you clean up nice, Mr. Grissom."

            His eyes twinkled and he walked to her side of the bed.  "I could say the same of you."  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he reached out to touch her hair.  "I take it you had a bath.  You're not cold are you?"

            "No."  Her breath caught at his touch.  "I'm just right."

            "Good.  I'm exhausted," he deadpanned.

            Sara giggled and Grissom's eyebrows rose in question.  "We figured you would be.  Danielle, the Earl's sister, kept me company today.  She told me where you'd gone."  She looked him up and down, her eyes taking in everything about him.  "You take my breath away." Her voice sounded overly husky to her ears.  She wondered where that had come from.

            Grissom's eyes roamed over her body, what wasn't covered that is.  "You know, I walked in and saw you sitting here in the sunlight and I found it very hard to breathe too."

            His confession caused a momentary silence between them.  The acknowledgement of the other's effects on each of them was quite telling.  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding it longer than was necessary.  All the while, Sara held her breath, anticipation running wild within her being.  While his lips pressed yet another kiss to her cheek, he mumbled, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

            Just when she thought he was going to press the next kiss to her lips, he pulled away and then stood.  "I, umm, well, I'm exhausted.  I was thinking that…"

            "Do you want to come to bed?"

            They looked at each other with quiet acquiescence.   He began to undo his cravat then the buttons of his cuffs.  Sara in turn, rearranged the pillows and then sank down further into the bed.  Grissom walked to the other side of the bed, and then pulled off his boots.  The rest of his clothing quickly came off save for his newly acquired underclothes.  Furtive glances were shared between the two during this activity, each holding their thoughts to themselves.

            Sara could feel herself becoming aroused but she wasn't sure that now was the time to try and further their relationship.  For one, she considered that she quickly tired still.  And she certainly didn't want to fall asleep on Grissom while making love.  She bit her bottom lip as she thought deeply about him as he crawled under the covers next to her.  Her fears were quieted though when he pulled her close and whispered, "Just sleep, Sara."

            CRADLED IN WARMTH, Sara stared aimlessly into the flames from the fireplace, wondering briefly if Grissom was aware that he was holding her so close that there was no space left between them.  Well, she was too warm to care.  Their relationship was making gains every moment and she wasn't about to ruin it by over-analyzing it.  She had wanted this for too long and now that it was within reach, she would fight with everything she had to keep it –to keep him.

            She sighed contentedly, thanking whatever force that had sent them to this time together.  This could be a very romantic interlude; it all depended on how they handled it.  The attire and the atmosphere would set the mood.  She'd just have to make sure that she used them accordingly.  A smile crept up her face as it dawned on her what she was thinking, planning for Grissom.  Seduction was the name of the game and she was up for playing –and winning.  The arm around her suddenly tensed and she didn't move lest he sense she was awake.  She wanted to know what he'd do knowing how he held her tightly, her back pressed firmly against his chest.  Her answer was in his arm tightening and pulling her closer.  It wasn't what she expected but she welcomed it with open arms.

            "Are you awake?" he whispered.

            "Hmm, yes."  She fought the urge to turn over and face him.  The best thing for her to do now was to let him think he was taking the lead.  All the while, she'd be guiding him to her way of thinking.

            "How long have you been awake?"  He sounded a bit groggy still.

            "A little while… not long.  What time is it?" she asked without thought.

            Grissom chuckled.  "I could tell you what my watch says but I don't think it would be quite accurate."

            Ok, that was a dumb question, she thought.  Of course he wouldn't know.  "I didn't mean that exactly… just, do you have an idea of how long we've slept?"

            "No, but I could find out."

            Grissom began to maneuver away from her and without thinking she stopped him hastily.  "No."

            Sara knew her actions and wording came across to him as desperate, but she couldn't help it, not with the closeness they had been sharing and the warmth she'd enjoyed.  Turning over to face him, his body almost resting on top of hers, she softly said, "Don't go."

            His hand came up to brush her hair off of her face and he throatily asked, "Are you sure?  Are you feeling all right?"

            She couldn't voice what she really wanted.  To play this right, he'd have to be the one to begin this.  It was a game and she knew how to play.

            Her eyes fell from his, straying to his lips then traveled back up to his eyes, only to see the ripples of desire she'd felt reflected back at her.  She waited with abated breath, wanting him to close the distance, to fulfill her dream, and with the slightest touch of his fingers on her cheek did she have any indication that he would actually take action.  The bed creaked as his body began to press into hers.  The weight was not unwelcome, it was necessary to her very being.  And when his lips finally grazed hers, she exhaled on a sigh, returning the kiss, deepening it as her hands snuck around to his back then up to the back of his head.  Her fingers tangled in his curls and she found herself pulling him closer.

            This time she wasn't afraid she'd fall asleep.


	9. Chapter VIII

A/N:  As promised, another chapter of A Time for Love on what could be called a 'quiet day'.   I must applaud my beta's and my sister for their help in making this chapter work.

Please tell me what you think of this chapter or even the story as a whole so far, even though there's still a lot left to this tale.  

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            Unbounded in her craving for the intoxicating liqueur of his kiss, she yielded her mouth at his demand.  Their tongues collided, tasting and exploring.   Her fingers splayed through his hair, spreading over his skull, tangling with his curls as he shifted to free a hand.   Her breath caught as his hand closed around her hair, drawing her head back.  Her pulse quickened when his lips traced the supple line of her throat to the heated spot of her pulse.  Straying from the silky strands of her hair, his hand ventured down her back supporting her as she wantonly stretched at his touch.  

            His other hand created a tingling path to the sensitized skin below her breasts and his fingers skimmed the soft cotton still covering them.  But when his hand left her she let out a groan of loss, opened her eyes and met his impassioned gaze.  She enticed him with her eyes to meet her need.  

            Lightly, his fingers trailed from the hollow of her neck down to the valley of her breasts, sending a shiver to course through her frame.  Her breath caught when his hand stilled and she looked down entranced, while he fingered the strings that held the neckline of her gown together.

            He drew back on the strings, tantalizingly.  Their eyes met again and he held her gaze as he lowered his head to feast on the revealed skin between the taut peaks of her breasts.  She cradled his head while her own fell back letting the sensations of his lips and tongue wreak havoc on her mind and body.  She felt his fingers close about her shoulders then the cotton slipping down her arms, trapping them against her sides.  The gown remained clinging to her breasts, caught on the hardened peaks of her nipples.   She cried out when his fingers teased the gown past the barrier, skimming over the ripe swells with his thumb.  She moaned when his mouth closed over her nipple and suckled, tasting it as a delicacy. _I've died and gone to heaven._

            Without thought, her hands found their way to his nightshift, deftly unbuttoning then dragging the material up over his back.  She winced from pleasurable pain as his teeth tugged at her hardened peak.  But she refused to be detoured from her destination.  He reluctantly pulled back, the fire in his eyes communicating his passion.  But he gave in to her and she pulled his shirt off unceremoniously and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Her assertiveness was short-lived, however, as he pressed her firmly back against the pillows.  Grissom took the arms of her nightgown and pulled them down until they no longer encased her arms.  Suddenly, he grasped the blankets and with a loud swoosh, he pulled them off of her then eased the gown from over her hips and down her long legs.  Showing a flash of amazement, his eyes danced over her heated skin.  Her pulse quickened at his lingering gaze and she made an attempt at modesty, bending her knees to hide his view of her most private area.

            His tongue peaked out of its own accord and she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped from her.  His eyebrow arched questioningly, so she explained, "You look at me as if I'm some delicacy laid out on a banquet table."

            His lips twitched into a smile.  "Who says you aren't?" he teased as his hand reached out and caressed her ankle then began the climb up her calf to her knee.  He grasped her knee and pressed it apart from the other, all the while shifting closer to her.  Once covering her breasts, her hands reached for him as she spread her legs further and invited him to close the distance.  As quickly as her hands were upon him, she fumbled with his boxers, tugging at them in desperation until she felt a staying hand on hers.  "Sara, wait."

            "I don't want to wait.  I need you," she whimpered.

            His hands fell to the bed on either side of her, holding him above her as he took a steadying breath. "No, we can't."  Before she could interrupt him, he continued, "Please tell me you're on birth control."

            Her hands now stilled as her mind processed his words, and then slumped to her sides.  She shook her head unable to speak. 

            A groan escaped his throat.  With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from her, his breathing ragged from the rushing of unspent adrenaline.  "I'm sorry, I should've thought of it sooner."

            Sara heaved a sigh of resignation.  "No, it wasn't just you.  I've wanted this for so lo…" she stopped herself before she said anymore.  Her slip hadn't gone unnoticed, though, as she saw his head snap up to meet her eyes.

            His eyes remained fixed on her as he slowly rose from the bed, as someone who was being withheld life-sustaining nourishment.  Her heart skipped with hope but then thudded at the defeat in his eyes.  She wanted to offer… something, even as she felt the mood slip away.  He swung around and grabbed the blankets throwing them hastily over her.  Then he walked over to where her nightgown had been thrown.  He picked it up, fingered it for a brief second then tossed it to her.  "I'll sleep on the floor."

            "Grissom, you don't need to do that."

            He sighed and ran his hand on the back of his neck.  "Yes… believe me, I do." He glanced back up at her and met her eyes.

            With great hesitation, she nodded, and handed him the pillow when he stepped closer.  She looked around for another blanket but he'd already grabbed one from the window seat.  "You're not going to be warm enough ­–"

            "I'll be fine.  I'm too 'warm' already."

            "Grissom?"  She reached out to grasp his arm.  He looked down at her hand but she didn't let go.  "We could…well, –"

            He shook his head fiercely.  "Go to sleep, Sara."  He slipped his arm from her grasp and walked to the hearth of the fire and dropped the pillow then laid out the blanket.  He disappeared from her sight as he lay down.  She fought the tears that pooled in her eyes.  _To come so close_.  Her body screamed out its need while she tried desperately to tamp it down.


	10. Chapter IX

A/N:  Thanks to Marlou, Geena and LSI for their help with editing this chapter.

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            Frustration.  That was the word that Grissom used to describe the following days.  He continued to sleep on the floor, or on the chaise lounge, although for some reason they still shared intimate moments.  Sara tried to indicate to him that there were 'other' ways but he refused to go down that path.  This was special to him as he suspected it was for her.  There was no way he was going to ruin it with a 'quick fix'.

            The day after he decided to sleep on the floor he realized how hard it was, the floor that is.  Still, he did manage to get some sleep.  Sara had a full day ahead of her.  Danielle, the Earl's sister, and Katherine, the Earl's fiancée arranged for a showing of clothing for Sara.  A dressmaker was brought in and as Grissom heard, Sara was pinned and poked for the better part of the afternoon.  Gowns had been selected, although he had yet to see any of them.  They'd been promised two gowns before the end of the night.  Sara would then have something else to wear for the next couple of days as her others were being made.

            He was growing impatient.  From what he'd seen of the way women dressed in these days, Sara was certain to come out looking beautiful.  She certainly wasn't happy though when they'd mentioned styling her hair, which would've included cutting it.

            "Grissom, they tried to get me to cut my hair short around the face.  No way!"  She'd been pacing that night in front of the fire, her arms crossed in front of her.  "I don't mind it being pinned up and put up but no way am I going to cut it into that style."

            "Why not?" He asked, a grin surfacing even though he tried desperately to hold it in.

            "Why not?  Because I don't want to return to Vegas with some weird style that I won't be able to do anything with."  Not waiting for his reply she turned and stared at the fire again.  "And quit laughing at me.  At least I'm still trying to find a way back.  You seem to be bonding so well with the Earl it makes me wonder if you want to go back."

            This surprised him.  Of course he wanted to go back.  He worried throughout the day about whether someone was taking care of his pets or how much the team and others might be worrying about them.  He told her that, but she was still exasperated by all the attention.  That was when things changed, again.  He'd gone over to comfort her in her moment of distress.  The moment grew and soon they found themselves lying on the floor in front of the fire.  Her skin was flushed with desire and his breathing was ragged when they'd finally come to the realization of where they were and what they were doing.  It took every ounce of restraint to pull away from her.

            It was the same every night.  Sara or he would be upset about something or other and they'd end up back on the floor, on the chaise lounge, or on the bed.  It didn't help any when her new clothes finally arrived.  They dressed for dinner that night and she wore one of her new dresses.  She was breathtaking.

            Her hair was pinned up but the curls were tighter and pulled away from her face rather than framing it.  The dress color was a soft hued gold, or at least that's how Sara described it to him.  What caught Grissom's eye however, was the bodice.  The square cut accentuated her bust-line and he wasn't so sure if he liked it, he was torn between wanting her and wanting her to cover up.  If she stretched or moved the wrong way, he feared she would expose more than either of them wanted.

            He also couldn't help sneaking another glance as they descended the stairs together.  He was beginning to understand the need the men had to get married.  It was either ruin a girl or he marries her.  Of course, they all thought that Sara and he were married already.  With each passing day, it became increasingly difficult to remember that they weren't.

            They remained for the meal only that night.  Sara was still tiring easily.  When they'd returned to their rooms, the maid was waiting for them so that she could help Sara undress.  It wasn't an easy thing to get out of these dresses.  He'd left for a moment and when he'd returned she was in her nightgown and standing by the fire, and that's when they'd had their next discussion about returning to Vegas.

            "What are we going to do when we get back, Grissom?" she asked in a subdued voice.

            Her meaning unclear, he replied with another question, "What do you mean… exactly?"  Did she mean, the jewelry store case, the questions about where they'd been, or was she talking about their 'relationship'?  He watched her silently as she stood before the fire.  Her hair had been released from its pins and hung in ringlets down her neck.  He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through them.

            "Us, Grissom," she whispered.  "What do we do about us?"

            "What do you want to do?"

            "No, Grissom.  You already know what I want to do.  I need to know what you want."

            Grissom sat heavily on the edge of the bed with a sigh.  "I don't know, Sara.  I…" Again he sighed, but this time it was in surrender.  "No, I do know.  I just don't know how to say it."

            The shuffling of her feet brought his attention to her and before he knew it, she was standing in front of him.  He stood, meeting her face to face.  Cradling her face in his hands, he leaned in for a kiss.

            "Tell me," she entreated.

            "I want you," he choked out.  It was a start and now that he had, he couldn't stop.  "I want to feel your soft skin on my fingertips.  I want to know every one of your curves intimately, and every freckle I may find.  I want to know what excites you, what noises you make as I find each spot that turns you on.  I…"  His eyes closed and his jaw tightened.

            "What, Grissom?  What else?" she commanded.

            "I want to hear you calling my name," he whispered as he claimed her mouth.

            The kiss didn't last long.  He tasted the salty tears on her face and pulled away to look in her eyes.  What he saw made his heart leap.  The love he saw through her tears astounded him.  He'd always known she'd felt something for him, but this was the first time he realized how deep it went.  He pulled her closer, hugging her and as if a song was playing in the background, they swayed back and forth.

            "Damn, Griss.  You really know how to turn a girl's head when you want to," she mumbled against his shoulder.

            "I try," he chuckled.

            "We really need to figure this out.  We don't know how long we're going to be here.  Isn't there… something we can do?"

            He knew exactly what she meant.  And if he knew of any way to… wait, "I think I know of a way."

            Sara tipped her head back.  "What way?  How?"

            "I'm not sure.  I'll need to look into it tomorrow.  Certainly, not tonight, I'm sorry."  He pulled her back against him and held her as he contemplated what he needed to do.  "A couple more days, Sara.  We can handle that."  He felt more than heard her groan against his chest.

            "Okay." Sara pulled away and stepped back.  "I'm, uh… we need to get some sleep.  I'm supposed to join them tomorrow when they receive their guests.  I guess we're the talk of the _haute ton_ right now.  We're heroes, we saved the Countess."

            "The _haute ton_?" he asked.

            She stopped her rambling and gave him an exasperated look.  "Society, Grissom.  That's what they call the upper echelon.  The _Haute Ton."_

            "Oh."  He grabbed his pillow and the blanket he'd been using the past few nights and began to spread it out on the floor.  He felt her eyes on him and he turned back to see that she'd already climbed into bed.

            "Gris, this is ridiculous.  Come to bed.  You can't keep sleeping on the floor."

            "I'm fine.  It's not that bad.  The rug is plusher than it looks."  He saw her shuffle under the covers and a lump formed in his throat.  He didn't think that if he climbed in with her that he'd be able to keep his hands off of her.

            "We did it for what… three or four nights?  What's different between the bed and keeping our hands off of each other, from us standing and ending up on the floor and stopping from going further?"

            She had a point.  He looked from the bed to the floor then back to the bed again.  Damn, I hate it when she's right.  He picked up the pillow and threw it back on the bed, aiming for her.  She caught it and laughed at his attempt.  "Don't say it," he grumbled as he pointed a finger at her.  He picked up the blanket and laid it on top of the other ones on the bed, then climbed in.  She scooted over further to her side and turned her back to him.  He did the same.

            "Goodnight, Grissom."

            "Goodnight, Sara."

            Before his eyes closed, however, he wondered how long it would be before they ended up lying in each other's arms.  It wasn't a question of whether they would... but when.


	11. Chapter X

A/N:  Yeah, it's here.  I'm sorry to make you wait so long.  My muse left me and I had to start another story.  If you're interested, the teaser is at my website.  After I get a couple more chapters done with it, I will start posting them.

This chapter isn't long and there isn't any interaction between Grissom and Sara but it was needed.  Reviews would be welcome.  I hope everyone is enjoying this.

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            Something wasn't quite right when she woke up the next day.  The blinds were still shut, and she wondered if perhaps she was back on her normal low hour sleep schedule.  Tossing the covers aside, she slid from the bed, quietly walking to the windows when she looked toward Grissom.  Except that Grissom wasn't there.  The blanket and pillow also weren't there.  He was gone already.  She flung the drapes back and her eyes were flooded by bright light.  It was at least mid-day already.  She'd slept straight through until noon.

            Quickly, she set about getting dressed, but had trouble with her gown.  She tugged on the bell pull for the maid.  It was answered quickly, by Lily.  It would seem that Lily had been given to her as her ladies' maid.  Well, like any good romance novel character, she would use her maid for information.  "So, umm, Lily, have you seen Gr… I mean, Mr. Grissom this morning?"

            "Yes, ma'am, I have.  He and his lordship went to look over his lordship's 'experiments'."  Lily was adeptly putting Sara's hair up into a French chignon as she related what Sara wanted to know.

            Sara took a quick glance at her hair in the dresser mirror.  It was still strange to her how they were fixing her hair.  Oh, well, she thought, I'll get used to it.

            As she was descending the stairs moments later, Danielle caught up to her from the other wing of the house.  "Sara, I was just thinking of you.  Katherine and I were going to call on Lady Halvorson this afternoon.  Would you care to join us, after you've eaten, of course?"  She'd taken Sara's arm at that moment and began walking with her as if they'd been bosom buddies since childhood.

            "I would love to join you and Katherine.  I was, however, going to check in on your mother –"

            "Oh, mum is doing quite well.  She's awake and having a bite to eat.  Why don't we visit her first, and then we'll be off?"

            "It seems to be a sound plan to me."  Sara smiled.

            THE COUNTESS was in fact just finishing her breakfast.  Her leg was propped up on a pillow, with two wooden splints on either side of her calf to keep it still.  She smiled a greeting at her daughter then pulled her onto the bed when she extended her hands.  Her attention was then riveted on Sara.  The look she gave Sara was certainly full of questions.

            "You are the young woman from the carriage, are you not?" she asked.

            Sara gave her a small curtsy as she answered, "Yes, ma'am, I am."

            "I have been informed that it was your husband who attended to me –saved my life."

            "Yes.  Your arm was bleeding and he made a tourniquet for it.  Then he set your leg," she replied.  Glancing over the uncovered leg, she saw the bruising and wondered how sore she must be.  "Are you feeling all right?"

            "Hmm, yes.  The good doctor has directed me to use the laudanum as I feel the need."  Her eyes twinkled, "I feel the need quite often."

            Sara's stomach churned at the thought.  She resolved, then and there, to keep an eye on the Countess.

            AFTER BREAKFASTING, Danielle collected Sara and they headed out on their excursion.  Sara was grateful that she was able to eat something with substance and have her coffee.  A social call would've included tea and biscuits or some such item, but she needed her coffee before anything else.

            When they finally arrived at Lady Halvorson's, they were greeted by a room full of other ladies.  It would seem that this Lady Halvorson was a much favored member of society.  The lady in question came forward with a flourish and touched cheeks with Danielle.  "Well, Miss Wentworth, tell us the to-do about Lady Wentworth.  We've all been waiting very impatiently for news of her.  Is she really as bad as has been suggested?"

            Danielle chuckled.  "No, no, Lady Halvorson.  She is quite alright.  She does have a broken leg and her arm does have a very nasty gash, but she was sitting up this morning taking her breakfast."

            "Oh, how truly wonderful; we'd feared the worst."  Lady Halvorson chose that moment to take in Sara's presence.  "And are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

            "Forgive me.  This is Mrs. Grissom.  Her husband and she were in the same carriage with my mother.  It was through their help that mother survived."  Danielle's voice had carried over the throng of women, and all heads turned toward Sara.

            "Really?  Then I must say we owe a great deal to you and your husband, Mrs. Grissom.  Beatrice is so very beloved by everyone."  Lady Halvorson grasped Sara's hands in both of hers and led her into the mass of women.  A quick count told Sara that there were no less than fifteen women present.  "The latest _on dit_ is that you are from the America's.  Is that correct?"

            Sara only nodded at first, but knew that was not quite the appropriate response so she added, "Yes, that is true."

            Another lady asked, "What brings you and your husband to England?"

            Before Sara could answer, Danielle cut in, "They are on their honeymoon, Lady Markham."

            Little twitters of whispered conversation occurred between reclined heads.  "So you are newly married?  How delightful."  Lady Halvorson exclaimed.

            Sara was unsure how to react.  Hearing herself called Mrs. Grissom had set her nerves on edge.  The ruse they were playing before these people was becoming a daunting task.  She and Grissom hadn't taken the time to discuss the details.  Rather, their preoccupation with each other had taken all of their time.  The first moment she got the chance, they were going to have a long talk.

            Minutes later, a younger lady gasped from the back of the gathering.  Sara was thankful for it.  It meant the attention was momentarily lifted off of her.

            "What is it, Miss Elizabeth?" Lady Halvorson queried.

            "I'm sorry, ma'am.  I was just thinking how delightful it would be if we held a ball, in honor of Mr. and Mrs. Grissom.  The season is slowing down and it could prove to be the highlight of this rather boring season."

            Well, so much for the attention being lifted off of me.  Sara felt the rush of blood seeping into her face.  The unwanted attention was, once again, directed at her.  The clasping and clapping of hands didn't go unnoticed by her.  They were definitely willing to hold this ball.  And Sara knew there was no possible way to get out of it.

            The discussion swiftly turned to the where and when of the ball and of the guest list.  It was quickly decided that it would be held at the Wentworth Estate, in the interest that the Countess would then be able to put in an appearance.  With that, Danielle declared that she would have her brother approve it, and then she would send word around for them to begin.

            Sara was quickly shuffled out of the room by Danielle and ushered into their carriage, headed back to the house.  Danielle was all chatter as they rode back.  And she was sure that Grissom was going to have a conniption about this.  The last thing either of them wanted was to be the center of attention, not only in their own time but here also.  It didn't go unnoticed by Sara that she and Grissom, the socially inept, were fast becoming the couple of the season.  At least in London, that is.  What would Grissom say?


	12. Chapter XI

A/N:  I know, I know.  It's taken awhile to get this chapter done, let alone started but here it is.  Thanks to all of you who continue to read and enjoy this.  And please, let me know what you think.

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            "They're what?"

            He stared at her, complete surprise on his face.

            "As I said, they're going to throw a 'ball' for us – in our honor."  Sara sat cross-legged on the bed, wrinkling her fine gown.

            Grissom had been enjoying this new look on her, but he was glad to see that his Sara of Las Vegas hadn't totally disappeared.  Turning toward the fireplace that was currently dead, he ran his fingers thoughtfully through the curls on his head in frustration.  They needed to stay low-key; changing history was not an option.

            "I know it's not what you wanted to happen –"

            "No, it's not.  Sara, don't you see what could happen if we get too involved here?"

            "Change history, maybe become non-existent and all that paradox stuff?  Yeah, of course I do."

            And he knew she did.  The fact, though, that they were becoming more and more involved with the people and society, and already possibly having changed history, was weighing down on his shoulders.  Without thinking, he asked under his breath, "Why couldn't you just say no?"

            Sara, however, had heard it and even though this conversation was going exactly as she'd anticipated, she was assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness and retorted, "Because that's your line."

            He glanced sideways in surprise, studying her face with his enigmatic gaze for an extra beat.  He was stunned to say the least.  In the last few days, they'd progressed in their relationship to a point that he felt certain their understanding was of a long duration.  But he could see now that there was a lot of work yet to be done.  

            Meeting his gaze, she saw how her words cut him.  Dropping her eyes from his steady gaze, she fretfully fingered the delicate lace of her gown.

            The damage he'd caused to Sara's emotional state of mind was severe and he would have to come to terms with it and very soon.  He watched her with a keenly observant eye.  Clearly, decisiveness was needed.  With silent steps, he positioned himself at her side of the bed.  "I deserve that," he sighed with resignation, his voice cutting the silence.

            Sara was at a loss as to how she could've uttered those words.  The last thing she wanted to do was to start a fight with him.

            When she heard his voice, so near to her ear, she was caught off guard and jumped at the sound it.  The tenderness in his expression sent shivers down her spine.  Fluidly she rose to her knees, even while encumbered by her long gown, and shuffled to the edge of the bed.  Timid fingers softly touched the hairs on his face and she whispered, "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it."

            His hand covered her fingers on his face and he leant into her palm, kissing the center gently.  "No, you did mean it and I'm sorry that you do.  I don't think I truly realized, until now, just how much I've hurt you.  I am very sorry, Sara."

            She smiled reassuringly to him but did not answer with words.  Instead, her lips met his, softly, tantalizingly as her hand snuck around his neck, pulling him closer.  His hands, now at her waist, responded in kind.

            But just as he was about to lay her back on the bed, she pushed against him.  In confusion, he looked down into her twinkling eyes and saw the hint of a smile sneaking out from her lips.

            "Grissom, we don't really have time for this.  We need to change and be presentable for dinner tonight," she spoke with as reasonable a voice as she could.  She wanted nothing more than lay with him, but their time was not their own.  They were expected at dinner and there was no way out of it.

            A gentleman would be joining the 'family' for dinner – a close childhood friend of Edwin's, the Earl.  Grissom had already attempted to relate what he'd been told of this friend to Sara.  So, she was strangely enough a bit anxious, having only been associating with men of the household.  Knowing this, Grissom acquiesced and backed away, but only far enough so that he could still help her off of the bed.  

            With the tension of repressed need filling the air, they changed for dinner in silence.

TWO HOURS LATER, the ladies were retiring to the drawing room while the men remained behind to have a glass of brandy and a smoke.  Grissom, not a smoking man, didn't take the proffered cigar, but did take a long swallow of the amber liquid sitting before him.  The dinner had been splendid, and more than once he'd caught Sara's eye from down the length of the table, reassuring her.  He didn't really know what she had to be worried about; she was the one that had the most knowledge between the two of them in regard to this time period.

            As he took another long sip of his brandy, listening offhandedly to the conversation between Edwin and his friend, Lord Chatsworth, or Sanderson as they informally called him, his attention was drawn to a painting hanging on the far wall.  As he gazed deeper at the details he realized it was a much younger picture of the Countess.

            He would have to guess that she had been in her late teens when the portrait had been painted.  His first thought was that the craftsmanship was extraordinary.  The details of her gown and jewelry stood out against the abstract background, giving it the illusion that she was the only thing that mattered.  Studying it more thoroughly, his eyes traveled to her hands, placed demurely on her lap.  As he was about to take a sip of his brandy, he inhaled sharply when his eyes rested on the ring she wore on her left hand.

            Disbelief at what he was seeing assailed him.  As a scientist, he constantly looked for the reasons behind every action and never believing in any such thing as luck or fate.  But as he regarded the ring and its similarity to the one he and Sara had found just before vanishing into thin air and arriving in 1822 London, England, the hairs on the back of his neck raised.  His mind wouldn't even allow him to attempt to hypothesize on this find.  He would love to find out what Sara thought of this.  She, like him, held the same belief that there wasn't anything that couldn't be solved with a bit of science and experimentation.  What he wouldn't do to be able to jump up from his seat and dash into the next room to pull Sara in here to look at the ring.  

            Having failed to get Dr. Grissom's attention, Edwin turned in his seat to see what it was that Grissom was looking at.  The only thing he could imagine it being was the picture of his mother.  "My mother – the portrait was commissioned by my father after their betrothal, and was completed just after they returned from their wedding trip to the mainland," he said.

            Grissom tried to temper his astonishment and nodded, but he couldn't string two coherent words together if he tried.  His voice had been whisked from his lungs by the sight of the ring that brought them there, sitting very delicately on the hand of the Countess.  Somehow, fate was directing their every step.

            "Is there something amiss, Dr. Grissom?" Edwin queried.

            A moment held in the air as Grissom registered his question.  He didn't know how to respond.  He couldn't mention the likeness of the ring to the one that had brought them to a year far in their past.  But he could try to learn a little about it.  Perhaps he'd then find a reason as to why they were there and how it was that the ring did it.  What was he thinking?  It was completely improbable that the ring was the source of their time travel.  Or was it?

            With nonchalance that he did not feel, he took another slow sip of his brandy and asked, "The ring… was that her engagement ring?"

            Edwin's eyebrow rose, noting the hesitation in Grissom's question.  "Yes… yes it was.  All of the brides of the Wentworth family have received the same ring upon their betrothal.  It is a family heirloom passed down from mother to son."

            "Every bride has received it then?"

            "Yes."

            "Hmm… I wonder.  Was there some significance to the ring?  Is there a story behind it?"

            "Well, since you ask, yes there is."  Edwin and Sanderson shared a smirk as they both settled back into their chairs.  "It has been told from generation to generation that the diamond in the ring was bestowed on a family member three hundreds years ago by a chieftain of a tribe in Africa for helping to save him and his people from being annihilated by a neighboring tribe.  The diamond had belonged to the high priest of the neighboring tribe and was taken as part of the spoils.  When he returned to England and took a wife, he had the diamond placed into a ring as a symbol of his undying love for her."

            As they contemplated the story, each with their own thoughts in regard to the ring and its meaning, Sanderson's thoughts treaded further toward the curse on his friend's family.  He and the Earl shared a meaningful look that did not go unnoticed by Grissom.  "What?"

            Taking a sip of his brandy, Sanderson licked his lips and then, "It's too bad the ring didn't have some type of blessing on it for the wives."  He turned to face Grissom, a stolid stare in his eyes.  "Every Wentworth Countess has died a tragic death – something untimely, such as a fall, a drowning or perhaps a runaway carriage - but it was never peaceful, certainly never of old age."

            Edwin's voice was distant as he calmly stated, "That is, until you saved my mother from bleeding to death."


	13. Chapter XII

Story Author's Note:  Did someone recently tell me I had too many projects at once?  Well, if they did, it's because I do.  But it does come in handy when a different mood strikes.  So, that's why these chapters are coming out sporadically.  However, this new one and the one following are actually being written by LSI: Love Scene Investigator.  She doesn't recall ever reading a Regency Historical Romance before, but has read Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" and seen the A&E version of the book.  I would say, after reading this, that she has a superb understanding of it. ~ Laredo Grissom

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            The impending ball in their honor, and all the planning that had gone on before it, had only served to make Gil more edgy.  He'd made himself scarce this afternoon, giving Sara privacy to get ready for the ball.  There had been so many servants in and out of their room, drawing their baths and fussing with their clothes, barely able to contain their excitement—as if they too, would be attending the ball—that his head was still spinning from the strangeness of it all.

            To say that he felt totally displaced, would be an understatement, though he wasn't as clueless about the customs of the period as Sara thought.  His knowledge didn't come from romance novels, as hers had, but his own readings and interest in history had prepared him well.  Once the shock of it all had begun to subside, and he could concentrate on the customs and the social graces of the time, he had slowly started to acclimate to the Regency culture.

            The only thing he'd never get used to was these high-collared shirts.  As he tried to slip his index finger inside his collar to release some of the tension, he promised himself that if they ever made it back, he'd never again complain about wearing a tie.

Standing at their bedroom door…_bed chamber_, he reminded himself, ready to knock—not that it was necessary or expected, but a courtesy which their situation seemed to warrant at the moment—he pulled the hems of his snug vest over his abdomen, and released a difficult breath.  For men, there wasn't much difference between the style of clothing worn during the day and formal evening wear.  Both contained way too many layers to ever be called comfortable.  

            He gave himself a once over, trying not to wince at his appearance.  _I look like a fucking clown_, he thought, taking in the knee breeches with front flap where a zipper should have been had they been invented yet, knee-high white socks and black waist coat with long tails.

            He felt himself blush as he knocked softly on the door.   

            "Come in," Sara called, and he opened the door slowly to reveal her standing in the middle of the room, a shy smile on her face.

            He didn't think it was possible for his shirt collar to get tighter, but somehow it did.  

            He stopped abruptly in the doorway.  It wasn't the tight fit of his clothes that impaired his breathing anymore.  His heart flipped and his breath hitched in his lungs as he took in her appearance.

            Nothing in his life had prepared him for this moment.

            She looked like a modern-day bride in an ivory-silk gown that fell straight to the floor and continued at the back in a short train.  The neckline fell to her breasts in a vee, and then gathered just below, accentuating that very desirable part of her anatomy.  

            A very desiring part of his anatomy hardened in response.  

            He hoped she wouldn't notice.

            "You look…uh—" He could feel his chest rising and falling quickly as he searched for adequate words.  But, like the zipper, he didn't think those words had been invented yet.  "Magnificent," he finally choked out after considerable deliberation.

            "You look pretty magnificent yourself," she said, her smile broadening in a perfectly made up face—not too bold, not too virginal.  Her dark hair, which had been pulled up at the back, fell in tender curls around her face, with more curls gracing her nape.  

            He wanted to touch them.    

            He finally found his legs and advanced into the room.          

            "I will be the envy of every man tonight."

            "And I will be the envy of every woman." 

            Gil crinkled his brow in disbelief.  "I look like a fool in King Henry's court."

            She lifted a hand to his cheek, softly caressing his whiskers with her thumb.  He wanted to kiss her, but was afraid that if he touched her, he would mar something, her lipstick or her hair or her gown.  He couldn't imagine touching her and not wanting to tear that dress from her body.

            She looked at his eyes first, and then her gaze traveled down the length of him.  When it reached his eyes again, it was full of mischief.  "No," she said softly, "You look like a prince, a very aroused prince."

            He was certain of his blush, and certain that it fit right into the time period.  But he was a man, 2004 Las Vegas; he shouldn't have been blushing like a teenager his first time.  

            He cleared his throat.  "Ready to face the crowd, Mrs. Grissom?"

            "Almost."  She turned to the dressing table crowned by a gold-framed mirror.  "Danielle loaned me these to wear."  She lifted a strand of delicate pearls interrupted in the center with a stone, a diamond…a very large diamond.

            He extended his hand.  "Allow me."

            He clasped the necklace around her neck, aware that his hands were trembling.  Their eyes met in the mirror, held, and he felt something he'd never felt before.

            All these years he'd been aware of her, as a woman, drawn to her, attracted to her on a very primitive level, but he'd never allowed himself to examine those feelings closely.  Looking at her now, he feared he was falling in love with her.

            His brain fought those feelings.  They were caught in some fantastic dream, caught in the romance of it all.  His brain argued.

            He'd begun to accept their situation in the last few days.  By all indications, something had happened in that jewelry store to transport them back in time, though he still couldn't get his brain around it.  The scientist in him wanted to believe—how ground-breaking would that be?  But logic kept interfering, telling him he was caught in some fantastic and frightening dream.  

            Looking at Sara now, however, he wanted to embrace that dream—as fantastic and frightening as it could be.  They'd agreed not to talk about their situation tonight; they would worry about it tomorrow.  And for now, he was happy to oblige.

            "You're beautiful, Sara," he said, losing himself a little in her dark eyes.

            And she was.  And she was his.  His wife, for as long as this madness lasted.  Right then, it was all that mattered to him.

* * * * *

            Her hand rested lightly on his arm, like a princess, and he felt transported into a time that he'd only witnessed in old movies, or in more recent images of royalty.  That she was his princess, his queen, his _wife_, this evening filled him with pride.

            "We're up next," she whispered, trying to conceal her excitement.  But she didn't fool him.  He was certain this was some big, romantic adventure for her.  Her smile twisted his gut.  

            Then they called their name.  "_Dr. and Mrs. Grissom_."  

            The crowd erupted in applause as they took their first step.  He wondered if Sara knew how many butterflies were invading his stomach right now.  She just seemed to be so completely at home in this setting, composed, accepting this weird dream.  He even suspected she was enjoying it.  

            It was dreadful.

            Gil released a long, soothing breath as they reached the floor and the applause died down.  Lord Wentworth and his sister, Danielle, were there to greet them.

            "You are a hero, Dr. Grissom," Edwin said with a jubilance that made him even more uncomfortable, if that were possible.  "Everyone heard that you saved my mother's life, and they came to rejoice in it.  You will be in high demand tonight."

            He drew a blank, looked at Sara, who seemed totally amused by the situation.

            "My husband, I'm afraid, is not accustomed to this kind of attention and praise, Lord Wentworth," she said with a confident humor.  "You will have to excuse his stage fright."

            Gil did a double-take.  Where was she getting it?  She was a natural, and so confident, he was in awe of her.

            "Ah, I can understand it, Mrs. Grissom," Lord Wentworth said mildly.  "We are scientists, your husband and I.  Men of science have much more important things to occupy their minds than the trivial matters of social behavior."  He turned to Gil with acceptance and admiration.  "I fully understand you, Doctor." 

            "Thank you," Gil said, simply because he couldn't figure out what else to say at the moment.  It sounded like a compliment, and every compliment deserved a 'thank you'.  He was winging it.  

            "But you, Lord Wentworth, seem practiced in the art of socializing," Sara said, flattering their host.

            He smiled and turned briefly to his mother, who was sitting in her stately chair at the other end of the room.  "My mother is deserving of the compliment, Mrs. Grissom.  She insisted that I engage with society at a very young age.  She wouldn't have it any other way."

            "You do her honor, my Lord."

            "And you flatter me, ma'am."  He bowed his head to her.

            Gil looked at Sara intently, curiously.  How many of these romance novels had she read?  It seemed to come so naturally to her.  He on the other hand, would have to stay very close to her if he were to make it through the evening without mishaps.

            He was curious, but he couldn't question her just then.  The music had started and several young people had lined up for a dance.  As one of the society parties of the year, it had attracted several well-to-do families and their daughters who were to be debuted this evening.  As he watched them dance, Gil prayed that he and Sara wouldn't be expected to join in.  He was certain even she wouldn't know the first move.  

            Danielle, who had been silent until now, took advantage of the lull in conversation to greet Sara properly.

            She took her hands in hers and spread her arms wide, looking at her.  "You look magnificent, dear Sara."  

            It irked Gil that she used the same word he had to describe her appearance.

            "The credit is yours, Danielle," Sara replied, her fondness for the Lord's sister evident.  "My husband was suitably impressed."  

            Gil received Sara's teasing smile, and returned one of his own.  She didn't know it yet, but he had every intention of making love to her tonight.  And he had managed to discretely secure the proper protection for them.

            A man approached their small party then, a man who was tall and lanky, with a shock of black hair and high cheek bones that gave him the clichéd magician's look.  He looked dangerous, Gil decided.  The image of the wizard that lived in people's imaginations, only this one was real.  

            It made him uneasy.   

            "May I introduce, Lord Sexton," Edwin said, throwing Gil for a loop.  Even his name sounded surreal.  "Lord Sexton, this is Dr. and Mrs. Grissom."  Sara was already curtseying at the introduction.  Gil followed her lead and bowed his head. 

            He watched as she extended her gloved hand with a grace he wouldn't have expected in modern-day America.  He wasn't sure he even knew her anymore.

            Lord Sexton's attention was focused…on Sara.  Edwin and Danielle looked slightly uneasy, as was Gil, though he couldn't pinpoint the source of his uneasiness.

            Lord Sexton brought Sara's hand to his lips slowly, deliberately, his eyes bearing into hers in a seductive manner.  And then, he kept holding her hand, which pissed Gil off royally.  He didn't care at this point if anyone had a problem with that.

            "Lord Sexton," he said, his voice cool and even.  "Mrs. Grissom is my wife." 

            The Lord bowed his head at Gil and smiled.  "Of course, she is.  And a most handsome woman, Doctor, if I dare say so; one of the handsomest women in this room."  He looked at Sara, who was beaming at him.  "Your husband is a fortunate man."

            "Yes.  I am," Gil said pleasantly, but with a warning in his voice.  _Take your hand off her._

            The lord threw him a mocking glance and excused himself politely.

            "Sara," Danielle said quickly, brightly, as soon as Sexton left, "you must come and meet my cousins."

            "I would be honored."  

            Sara allowed Danielle to lead her away.  Gil watched her go.

            "How long have you been married, Dr. Grissom?" Lord Wentworth asked as soon as Sara and Danielle left.

            "Not long."  Not long at all he added to himself.

            "Ah.  You married for love," Lord Wentworth said, dragging Gil's attention from Sara who was circling the room with Danielle, to Edwin.

            He looked at him curiously.  "Pardon me?"

            Edwin smiled.  "It's obvious that you love your wife.  Yours was not an arranged marriage."

            It was so arranged it wasn't even funny, Gil thought.  But looking back at Sara, who was smiling and exchanging words with everyone she met, Gil felt a surge of pride.  She was charming everyone…As she had charmed him.  

            "I love her."  It was a whisper, a moment of clarity, a revelation to himself more than to Edwin.  He loved her, he realized, had probably always loved her.

            "Then it befalls upon my duty to warn you about Lord Sexton.  He is a man of questionable morals."

            "I trust my wife," Gil said quickly, but as his gaze followed her, he frowned.  She and Danielle had met up with Lord Sexton again, and Sara appeared to be enjoying his attentions way too much.

~TBC

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Chapter Author's Note:  I suggested the idea for this story to Jo months ago because she was particularly interested in Regency romance.  When it looked like she was abandoning the story, I couldn't live with it.  So, Jo suggested that I write this chapter and the next… hopefully with your encouragement, Jo will rediscover a passion for this very unique story. ~ by LSI: Love Scene Investigator


	14. Chapter XIII

He drank the last of his brandy, said goodnight to the Earl and then left the library quietly so as not to disturb any of the guests staying the night. It was hard to realize that while it was nearing three o'clock in the morning, he didn't feel weary from the tiring day. In all honesty, he felt alive, exhilarated by their experience. The vision of Sara was still very keen in his mind and he wondered what she was doing at this moment. Standing at the base of the stairs, he stared upward, thoughtfully envisioning what would be happening in the next short minutes.

The fire blazed in its hearth, spreading a warm glow throughout the room and throwing shadows into the further reaches. There was a candle lit near the bed casting a long shadow up toward the ceiling. The candelabra near the dressing table added to its shimmering light.

Sara was sitting at the table, her hands occupied with removing the pins that held her hair in place. She was humming softly, a song he faintly recognized. As he listened, he realized it was the one song they had danced to, a waltz.

The fire warmed her alabaster skin, lending it a rosy hue. Her pose was quietly dignified. The slit in her satin nightgown ran up from her ankle to her mid-thigh, revealing an intoxicating sight of flesh.

She hadn't worn the gown before, always choosing something more modest, perhaps in an attempt to assuage his desire. Had she anticipated his plans tonight?

He hoped so.

A glance at the mirror and he realized she was watching him as well. He cleared his throat anxiously. All of a sudden things seemed to be happening a little too fast. He absent-mindedly strode over to the fire, squatting before it as he took the fire poker from its stand and began to stoke the fire. His mind was spinning with thoughts of what this night would mean to the both of them if it played out how he had hoped. Now, at this moment, it meant far more to him than he had previously imagined, and he wanted it to last forever. He would take it slow, savouring every moment.

A frustrated grunt came from her lips, and he smiled as he watched her tugging at her hair. A pin must've become stuck and tangled itself into her strands. He casually walked over and took the brush from her hands.

He saw the reflection of her smile in the mirror. Tentatively, he reached for the pin in her hair that was now dangling away from the other curls. Carefully, he loosened the pin and pulled it free. He found three more before her curls were finally lying loosely around her shoulders. His gaze flickered to her face in the mirror and his breath hitched at the sight before him.

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but tonight she took his breath away. The firelight seemed to be playing with her image. He fingered her soft curls then pushed them aside to reveal her smooth skin at the nape of her neck. With his eyes still holding hers, she felt the heady sensation of his lips on her neck.

On instinct, her hand snuck up and held his head firmly, pulling him closer. A whisper of a sigh elicited from her lips. She'd anticipated his return to their room all throughout the night. They'd had several nights of heavy petting and kissing, but it had never gone further, each of them too afraid of advancing it that one more step.

It would be disastrous if they ended up _enceinte_.

That's what Danielle had said they delicately referred to when a woman was with child. She'd searched out her advice about protection and Danielle had been more knowledgeable than Sara had expected. But at this moment, when looking at Grissom's lips paying obeisance to her neck, the thought of one day carrying his child tugged at her heart. Their eyes met at that moment, and a blush stole up her face. His gaze was piercing and she could have sworn that he'd read her mind.

But Grissom had other things on his mind at that moment. Her hair, now free from the restraints of the pins, shimmered from the light of the fire. In the mirror, he could see how it set about her shoulders, framing her face. At first, the brush grazed her hair tentatively. He'd never brushed a woman's hair before and it was an odd feeling, nothing like he'd expected. Her hair was just as soft as he'd imagined it. More so even, he thought as he brought the brush back up and slid its bristles through her hair once again. He heard a sigh escape from her lips as he made another pass.

When he looked back into the mirror, he caught her staring at him, her eyes full of curiosity. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked, his voice low, but teasing.

"Hmm… hmmhmm. Tonight feels… there's a subtle change in the air. Am I imagining it… or do you feel it too?" she asked.

He stopped his ministrations, and then looked about the room as if searching for something tangible. "Maybe it's the ambience."

Sara let out a soft giggle and turned around to do the same search of the room as he did. "Well, the candles, the fire and the turned down bed could have something to do with it."

Their eyes locked. The moment was heated.

His lips slowly descended to meet her soft and pliant ones. His hand slid up her arm to cup her neckline, moving ever so tenderly to tangle with her curls. He was about to shift closer, his other hand moving toward her hip, when she broke the kiss abruptly.

"Sara?" he asked.

She was suddenly unsure of his intentions, whether he was going to go to the next step or keep it the same. "I want this, Grissom. Tonight, well, I … can we …" her head bowed shyly and she fidgeted by picking softly at his jacket's edge.

He chuckled softly before lifting her chin to look into her eyes seriously. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I mean, if you are. But," she winced as she knew what she was about to say was going to come out all wrong. "Is this… Are we…" She couldn't form the words into anything that didn't sound accusatory.

"Say it," he encouraged. "I'm not going to back away." Grissom drew her over to the bed, sitting her down on it, and then took a seat close to her.

With a strengthening breath, she declared, "This isn't going to be a one time deal, Grissom. I've wanted this for too long – wanted you for too long to have wasted my time for just one night."

"It's going to be tough enough don't you think, if we don't intend for this to be anything more than a fling? I mean…" she hesitated, somewhat flustered. Sara's mouth opened, but nothing came out, so she just as quickly shut it. Her brief hesitation allowed her the time she needed to frame the words, "Grissom, where do you see this going between us? I know you don't mean this to be a one nighter, but what will it mean to you? Please be honest with me."

"I'm always honest with you, Sara," he said quietly. He glanced about the room, memories of the last couple of weeks flooding his mind. Their arguments, their make-ups, their bonding had taken place in this small space. It was as if they truly had been married. His eyes flickered back over her face, her hands inside his own and then back up to her eyes again. "I don't know if we're going to make it back to our time. Doesn't that frighten you?"

She shook her head. "Not if I'm with you. We can do this, but it's going to take the both of us, together. And if we do make it back?" She searched his face, hoping to see a glimpse of his thoughts. Surprise at her question was not what she'd expected.

Grissom's thoughts were jumbled to say the least. He'd only been thinking of them in terms of the life they'd been living as a couple, in England. Not as how things would end up if they returned to their own time, to their team and their careers. But the question, although an excellent one, didn't change his feelings. If anything, they reinforced his feelings for the woman sitting next to him. He'd been given an opportunity, a chance to live the life he'd only ever dreamed about. Losing Sara now was not an option.

Keeping her was everything.

"Gil?"

The use of his Christian name brought him out of his reverie. "I love you, Sara."

She started at his sudden endearment. "I love you, too." He smiled down at her and she could see the wheels turning now behind his eyes.

His lips tenderly grazed hers in a bare whisper of a kiss. "We could leave here and go back to America," he whispered. His only answer from her was a murmur. "We know more about our own history."

He watched her tongue sneak out to taste him on her lips. He leaned in closer, her eyes dazedly anticipating his touch again. With his voice low and husky, his breath warm on her cheek, he asked, "Marry me?"

A small gasp escaped between their barely touching lips, but instead of allowing her to answer, he deepened the kiss.

With a great shove, he found himself lying on his back and hearing her shuffle further on the bed only to straddle his stomach. Her hair fell around her face, framing it as she leaned over him. "Were you going to let me answer that? Or were you afraid I'd say yes?"

He could see the smile hiding behind the façade of her frown and knew she wasn't suddenly on a rampage. "I'm more afraid you'll say no."

"Whatever would make you think I'd say no?" she asked.

"Lord Sexy," he teased.

"What? You're joking right?" she chortled, until she saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Was he really jealous of that oversexed man? "You are joking aren't you?"

"Well, you did spend a good portion of that first hour bedazzling him. I kind of thought maybe…"

"No, no, no… I did not just hear you say that." She smacked him on his chest lightly, but with just enough power to make him grunt in response. "Grissom, what are you doing? Grissom?"

He'd flipped her over so that he now had her pinned beneath him. Her chest rose and fell heavily from the exertions and his eyes drank in the sight of her barely covered breasts beneath the filmy cloth of her nightgown. He'd intended on tickling her until she'd cried 'Uncle', but something exploded inside him and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to make her his.

Sara felt the change in him just as assuredly as if she'd been struck by a bus. His eyes no longer held the icy blue color of humour, but had grown dark and stormy with passion. Her hands rose up to his chest, grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down to her. Their lips crashed together, both of them whimpering from the almost painful sensations. When he pulled away, the color of his eyes had not lessened. "I do love you. You know that don't you?" she asked.

"Will you marry me?"

Her eyes darted back and forth between his fiery ones, wondering at the change that had occurred, but not able to put her finger on it. "Gr…"

"Sara, please don't make me beg."

"Yes, I will," she whispered, as if her breath had been taken from her.

"To have and to hold?"

"Always," she assured.

"Til death do us part?"

"I do," she vowed.

The forcefulness of her 'I do' sliced through the air and they both froze, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. It was a charged moment. The declaration of her vow was pivotal and they both realized at that moment that an exchange of these vows were as serious to them as if they'd been standing before a minister.

He pulled himself up to sit on his knees, never breaking eye contact with her. She in turn, pulled herself up to rest on her elbows. She couldn't resist the need to hear the same words from his lips. "Til death do us part?" she asked.

"I do," he vowed unhesitatingly.

The words had no sooner left his lips than she'd reached forward, pulling him down on her, allowing his lips to crush hers, sealing their vows with a kiss.

Her hands gently removed his from his task and adroitly finished it. His breath was heavy and ragged as her fingers danced over his shirt then under his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders until she was able to throw it across the room to land on a chair. She returned to the buttons of his waistcoat, making quick work of them and then removing it just as smoothly as the jacket.

His cravat was still knotted and she found the way to loosen it from his neck. After it lost its binding, she was greeted with the bobbing of his Adam's apple. It drew her to him. She pressed her lips to it then trailed further down, following her fingers as they undid the buttons of his shirt.

A soft dance of his fingers, like butterfly wings against her skin, brought him to the short sleeves of her gown. He tugged on one until her shoulder was bare and he was able to tenderly place a kiss on her sweet skin.

His touch sent shivers down her spine and she fumbled with the last button of his shirt, but soon enough, it was off and she slipped it from him. The masculinity in front of her drew her breath from her. Her hands leisurely caressed upward over his stomach and his chest. She couldn't help herself, and she leant forward, pressing a kiss directly on his sternum.

Her touch was driving him mad. It was soft enough to tantalize him, but sound enough that he knew it wasn't a dream. He slid his hand up her back and grasped her hair, pulling it back to swoop down and capture her mouth. The kiss was rough, filled with passion and desire.

She groaned against him, encouraging him in his ministrations.

Encouraged, he definitely was. Holding her to him, he laid her back down, covering her with his half-naked body. He ran his hands along her arms, then back up to her sleeves once again, but this time pulling them down further, giving him a greater view of her ivory skin.

It wasn't long before both of them were completely unclothed. It took some cooperation on each of their parts, but neither seemed to mind. His gaze made her skin blaze and the blush that enveloped her covered her skin like the rising sun. "You are so beautiful, Sara."

Remembering another time, Sara asked, "Since when have you been interested in beauty?"

A deep chuckle came from the depths of him. He lowered himself over her and between each word of his reply he pressed repeated kisses to her shoulder, her neck and her face when he said, "Since… I… met… you."

The smile that lit her face conveyed more than he'd ever know. Pushing himself off of her, he lay next to her, his hand on her hip and his eyes memorizing every inch of her. The satin nightgown had twisted between her legs. His fingers tightened on the silky material, drawing it slowly up her thighs and she trembled slightly from the sensation. When his fingers had reached the beginning of her hip bone, he sucked in his breath at the realization that she wasn't wearing anything beneath.

Sara watched his gaze move down her legs to the tips of her toes then back up again as his hand drew the material of her nightgown up her hip. When he stopped suddenly, and she heard the swift intake of air, she looked down to what he was staring at. A soft giggle swept through at the thought of how much the lack of under garments could affect a man. Now that she was convinced that this night would play out as she had dreamt, she felt the need to take a little more control and with that, she grasped his hand firmly. She tugged on it until he relinquished his hold on her gown and dragged it enticingly up over her abdomen until it lay just beneath her breast line. "Touch me," she whispered.

Relishing her tempting command, he cupped a breast through the thin material – hot and heavy, fitting in his palm just as he always imagined. He kneaded lovingly and heard her moan in response. He ached with need as a rush of blood gathered at his loins. He pressed his body into hers and tasted her, from her lips to her throat and collarbone down to where her flesh mounded in his hands.

Now he feasted.

With a moan she panted for more breath, sighing his name. He licked and suckled knowing he had to be marking her; the thought sent a rush of utter possessiveness through him. His lips grazed over a tight nub and she cried out, urging him on. He instinctively pressed his groin into hers and even through his clothing he could feel the searing heat of her junction. In anticipation, he was already in aching need of her, but now, feeling her heat and knowing that culmination was near, it overtook him.

Levering himself on one arm, he tugged the night gown up. Sara acted in understanding, hoisting herself up so that he was able to remove the gown over her head. When he peered down, taking in her nakedness, the tight pebbles and dark aureoles, his chest tightened and he fought for breath. He wanted to take this slow, but he didn't think that was going to happen. Especially not now as he felt her nimbly unbuttoning his trousers, her fingers knowingly grazing his rigid length.

If she kept this up, he wouldn't last long enough to entertain the thought of feeling her sheathed around him. So, he stopped her hands, held them for a moment as her eyes met his and understanding dawned in her brown orbs. It was the work of seconds that he had removed his remaining clothing. When he turned back to Sara, his Sara, her eyes were appreciatively marking him. A contented sigh released through her lips and the sound of her satisfaction with him made his head swell. He lowered himself to her again, this time it was skin on skin, mingling the warmth of both bodies. His manhood pressed at her junction, the hard length rubbing hard against her nub of pleasure. A small movement on his part and she gasped at the sensation. He did it again.

She couldn't help but shift to better feel him. She'd been with other men, but none had created a reaction in her this intense. She knew, in her heart and mind, that he was holding back, keeping a tight control over his body. It wasn't what she wanted. She lifted herself, pressing her moist center against him. He growled in return.

"Sara, don't move." His voice was strained, painful.

She gathered him in her arms, tightening them about his shoulders. "If you… couldn't tell, I'm more than… ready." Each phrase punctuated with a thrust against him.

He didn't want it to be this quick, not this night. So, with a quick steadying breath, he pushed himself up, away from her. She whimpered from the loss of his touch. Her breasts rose and fell with each strained breath, tempting him with each rise to touch them, knead them. His hand cupped her then, feeling the weight, measuring it against the time before. He let his thumb graze over a taut nub, making her moan with each pass he made. His mouth came crashing down on her breast, taking the pebble into his mouth, tugging and pulling on it with his teeth, suckling it between his lips and laving it with his tongue.

His hand traveled down the length of her stomach, pressing deep when meeting the sweet indentation where hip met thigh before moving down to feel the silky softness of her inner thigh. It was smooth and firm. With his thumbs he felt the crease of her thigh, and then moved slowly, tantalizingly inward.

She was an extremely vocal woman and when he moved away from her warmth to do the same to her other thigh, her frustration with his attentions came out in a strangled cry. "Grissom!"

He shushed her lightly, before returning to her breasts, now giving the same attention to the other. When she was about to say something more, his fingers had found the crease of her other thigh once again, but this time he gave what she so craved. His fingers dipped into her damp curls, searching through her heated softness to find her.

She arched against his hand as one finger entered her, the other pressing against the hard nub at her center. She was slick, swollen and so hot. Her breast strained against his mouth, pushing up along with the rest of her to meet each thrust of his finger. He continued to gently probe, stroke, finding new ways to get her to invoke his name.

He felt her clamping down on his fingers, she was close.

Before she could react to his fingers leaving her body, she felt his thigh between her legs, pressing them further apart. She met his gaze, never leaving it as he positioned himself at her entrance. She wanted to close her eyes as he entered her, the sensation too intense, but his eyes held her, claimed her to be his.

She was wet and so invitingly hot, as she sheathed his length. He held himself within her, unmoving as her body became accustomed to him. When her body arched against him, he moved within her. His thrusts, slow and rhythmic, set a pace. She found his rhythm and matched it, her finger moving over his back, feeling his straining muscles ripple beneath them.

His thrusts continued, but with each one his hips rolled as he entered her, encouraging her to spread her thighs wider, raise her knees higher. She took the invitation and wrapped her legs around him, pressing against him as he stroked deeper. And when he chose that moment to kiss her, she gasped into his mouth when he'd found the spot that would send her over the edge.

Her muscles clamped around him, and she buckled beneath him. A strangled cry caught between his lips as she found her release. A thousand shimmering lights exploded in her sight. He rode through each wave of her pleasure until he found his own release.

She held his body to her, her muscles still tense and holding the essence of him within her. She could feel his offering slipping from her body and the sweetness of the moment, knowing it was Grissom that filled her so completely, she buried deep into her heart.

They drifted off to sleep, neither pulling away from the other, each knowing that this was how they always wanted to remain.


	15. Chapter XIV

Her eyes fluttered open, greeted with a tender gaze. A loving smile formed on his lips as he reached for her, brushing back the strands of gossamer soft hair that had fallen along her cheek. His hand lingered a moment on the soft skin, before straying to her neckline down to her shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her back and hugged her to him.

She shifted under the covers, snuggled against his warm body and laid her head on his shoulder. Her eyes drifted over his chest, and her fingers grasped the arm that encircled her, holding her snugly. Morning light drifted in between the closed velvet drapes – the day was well advanced and Sara had never felt so rested. In her memory, she'd never slept this long and she knew she could only attribute the feeling of security and contentment to this man, the love of her life, her husband now – whether or not he was in the eyes of the law.

A contented sigh escaped from her lips as she snuggled closer to him. They'd exchanged vows that were more than mere words. Despite his past communication barriers—especially with her—he didn't hesitate to respond to her vows last night and that had meant more to her than any eloquent and elaborate declaration of love ever could.

Her skin tingled where his fingers drew lazy circles on her back. It was after a few moments of silence that she realized he was spelling out words. She concentrated intently on what he was saying – her name, love, beauty and home were a few of the words she could decipher. It wasn't something she'd expect from Grissom, but then she'd learned over the last few weeks that he was as unpredictable as the weather.

A knock at the door disturbed their quiet ruminations. Grissom called out an 'enter' and Sara's maid came in. She glanced shyly toward the bed and her eyes grew large at the sight of their bare shoulders peaking out from under the sheets. Averting her eyes, she went to stoke the fire and then drew the drapes. She started pouring fresh water into the basin on the dressing table, when Grissom requested a bath for his wife.

Sara looked up at him and he winked. Hearing him call her his wife, with a tenderness she'd never heard from him, brought a tear to her eye.

The maid curtsied before leaving the room.

Grissom reluctantly left her warmth and went to wash his face in the water basin. Sara turned on her side and watched him with amusement. He went through the same ritual every day. Would she ever get tired of it?

She caught his gaze in the mirror. His look sent her blood racing through her, shivers tingling her skin, as his eyes traveled down her face to her throat and then to her bare shoulders.

With a blink of an eye, his expression changed to concern, a frown creasing his brow. It worried her. "Grissom, what's wrong?"

He didn't reply, but instead braced himself on the dressing table with his hands, head bowed, shaking back and forth in disbelief. He looked back up at the mirror, his posture remaining the same. He met her eyes, watching as she sat up and the sheet fell from her, baring her nudity. His breathing hitched as memories of last night warmed his heart. But now, the look of worry that was etched across her face brought him back to the present.

He pushed off from the table. When he reached the bed and sat on the edge, he grasped her hands and held them in his lap. "It's not what you think. Last night," he closed his eyes, remembering it vividly. "Last night was a fantasy, come to life. You're beautiful, Sara, in heart, mind and body. I can't find the words to tell you what it means to me. Even if it's not legal, you are my wife in my heart."

Stubborn tears started to form against her wish, beginning when he took her hands in his. She couldn't believe the emotional depths that he was speaking from. She could, however, feel that there was something not quite right and she, with a quiver in her voice, had to ask, "But?"

He sighed, grasping her hands tighter. "I lost my control and got distracted." A shy smile formed on his lips and a chuckle from hers. "But seriously, Sara, I forgot something and it could tremendously affect… us."

A frown knitted on her brow, and her mind raced with the possibilities he could be alluding to. It didn't take much for her to realize what it was. He hadn't said it scared him or that he didn't want it to happen. It sounded more like he was trying to convince her it wasn't such a terrible idea. That they could deal with it. She couldn't agree more.

This time, she gripped his hands, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm not worried about it."

"You're not?"

"No… if it happens, it happens."

Still, he wondered at how the situation would be with a child involved, especially if they were going to be crossing the Atlantic. The journey would take a month, probably longer. – he didn't want her to be sick during their travels.

"I think, until we're settled somewhere…" his voice drifted off, the corners of his mouth lifted as he daydreamed, fantasizing about creating a warm and loving environment to raise a child in together. "We should have a home set up before we decide to have children. We need to be careful."

So he did want to have children, she thought. Relief flooded over her. She'd briefly entertained the notion as she had drifted off to sleep, but hadn't thought about it again until he'd brought up. Last night, well, she couldn't be sure of anything, but she felt an eerie shiver course through her at how close to home he could possibly be. She began internally to count the days... her eyebrows rose with alarm and she darted a glance toward Grissom. He was looking down at their tangled hands and had not seen how startled she was. With some quick forethought, she disguised her thoughts; it wouldn't do any good to alarm him, at least not yet. Instead, she nodded in agreement and asked, "So, where do you want to live in 1822 America?"

He stared blankly at her. Her question caught him off guard. With their topic of conversation having been children, it was unexpected. He licked his lips, his customary nervous reaction. "I, umm, I don't know. Where do you want to live?"

Sara chuckled. "Well, I don't think Las Vegas has been settled yet, so that's out of the question."

Their situation was certainly amusing.

Sara's maid returned with two other maids, all carrying piping hot water in large copper buckets. When they returned with a second load, Sara gracefully eased her body into the steaming water. It was hot, but it eased her sore muscles, muscles that she hadn't used in, well, years.

Grissom watched from the edge of the bed. Instead of letting the maids dote on Sara, he approached the tub and nodded to them that they were excused, taking a sponge from one of the maids before they left.

Sara swivelled her head around, wondering where they were going, but smiled when she saw Grissom approaching her with sponge in hand. She eased back against the tub, letting the water cover up over her breasts, her nipples just barely peaking out through the ripples.

Tormentingly slow, Grissom knelt next to the tub, easing the sponge into the water until it had absorbed all it could. He reached forward and tantalizingly slid it over her shoulders – first over the left, to down below her neck then over to her right shoulder. He dipped the sponge again and pressed it to her chest, gliding it down through the valley between her breasts.

She responded with a groan as she pressed her chest against the sponge. The feeling he had created in her, with so little effort, was intense, leaving her breathless.

He glanced up at her through lowered eye lashes and she met his gaze as his hand moved lower, running the rough sponge along her inner thighs, then back up to swirl in the curls that sheltered her warm center.

"Mmm, Gil," she muttered through a sigh. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes as each new sensation sent ripples of pleasure through her. She lifted her arms and gripped the sides of the tub.

Grissom watched the passion within this woman whom he loved more than any words could say, flit across her face. Her breathing became heavy, panting with each stroke and growing with intensity when he let loose of the sponge, his fingers instantly taking its place to stroke her tight nub. She gasped, the forceful strokes pulling her closer to the edge.

She thought she'd died and gone to heaven when his finger slipped lower, entering her devilishly deliberate in their intent. She lifted her hips meeting each of his thrusts when he pushed a second finger into her. The intensity was too much and she cried out his name as she tumbled over the precipice.

He let her down easy, his strokes becoming mere flicks of tender attention as she slid back to the bottom of her bath tub.

Her eyes opened, seeing the intensity with which he stared at her, making his love for her that much more evident. It touched her deeply. "I don't suppose you want to join me in here?"

Grissom eyed the water and then moved up her long, sensuous body. It would be so easy to slip in and finish what he'd started, but his sensibilities were heightened by his earlier acknowledgement of his slip-up during the night. It was hard enough for a woman to bear a child in this day and age, but to add to it a crossing of the wide Atlantic was more than he wanted to put on her. If things went the way he was now thinking, they could be on a ship within days. He looked down at his hand when he felt a tug on it, Sara's hand having grasped onto it. Reluctantly, he shook his head. "If I do, we'll never leave this room."

Sara understood more than the agreeing nod of her head let on.

After they finished dressing and had breakfast with those guests and family members that were awake, they chose to tell Danielle and Edwin that they would be making plans to return to America.

Danielle was terribly saddened to hear they were leaving; she'd come to think of Sara as a sister and although she'd be gaining one very soon with Edwin's betrothal, it wouldn't be the same.

Edwin was very gracious and offered Grissom his help in anyway he could to obtain passage for their trip and for anything else they would need. He had to attend a meeting with his steward, but gave directions for Mr. and Mrs. Grissom to be driven wherever they required throughout the day.

Within the hour, Sara and Grissom found themselves seated in the carriage and on their way toward the Port Authority offices to obtain their passage – back to America.


	16. Chapter XV

The fire crackled and snapped as the heat consumed the logs. The only pair of eyes in the room remained fixed, unblinking as they stared into the flame's depth. The door opened with a creak, and still the eyes never wavered, even the soft shuffling of feet on the wood floors failed to arouse his interest. Grissom sat in despair, not understanding how something so tragic could happen at a time when things seemed so full of possibilities. Sara had been so full of life just hours ago, as they walked hand in hand down the street that was bustling with activity. Her eyes, shining brightly with gaiety in the warm sunshine had held his heart in their grasp, filling him with more love than he ever thought he'd be able to feel for anyone.

Now, as his eyes drifted from the living fire over to the pale, nearly lifeless form of his heart's wife, the doctor's words came back to shatter his heart anew.

_"I'm sorry, Dr. Grissom. There's nothing more I can do."_

How many times had he heard that said in his line of work? How many times had he wondered when he'd have to be told that about his mother or his co-workers? He'd already heard it once when a young rookie working on his shift had been shot, bringing along with that tragedy the woman he had always been careful to keep at a safe distance.

It was a vicious circle.

"Dr. Grissom?" He heard the voice, but did not respond.

A hand lay on his shoulder and the voice came again, "Dr. Grissom? Is there anything I can get you?"

My wife, he thought. He shook his head.

Danielle quietly quit the room, giving one last glance at him.

Grissom never gave any indication that he'd noticed, instead, he sat further on the edge of the chair, reaching across the cool cotton of the bedclothes to grasp the cold, sallow hand that lay on top of them. As he gripped it, there was no return grasp as there had been when he'd taken her hand to help her out of the carriage earlier that morning, no smile like the one she greeted him with as she stepped down to stand close to him.

It was that last thought, that last image of her smile that put him over the edge. The tears he'd been holding back overwhelmed him, and silently, his anguish rushed upon him, like a soldier in the field, glinting metal and the quick stabbing of a bayonet through the heart. His desolation overtook him, his head falling in exhaustion upon the intertwined hands of lovers, of soul mates that time forgot.

In the distance, a clock chimed twelve midnight. The rhythmic gong slowly stirred Grissom into wakefulness. Upon lifting his head he assessed the listless state of Sara in slumber. She hadn't moved to his knowledge, remaining just as he'd last seen her. He groaned as he sat straight, having slept in an unnatural position for the major part of six hours. After easing his sore muscles, he ran a tired hand through his hair, sighing with the effort. The bite of cold making a shiver run through him, he realized that the fire had died down to just glowing embers. He strode over to the fire, tending it mindlessly.

Minutes later, while he crouched before the fire, its snap and crackle the only sounds to keep him company, a new sound filtered through the room. Believing it was just his wishful thinking he paid the sound no heed, that is, until he heard it again. It was a soft moan emanating from the bed. His head snapped up, his eyes darting earnestly toward the bed. His pulse raced as he watched and listened. Then, just a small movement, but a movement nonetheless, and he found himself next to the bed, not even remembering walking toward it.

Sara's head shifted, as if arousing from a dream state. She mumbled faintly and Grissom leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers.

His name on her lips was never so sweet.

He grasped her hand, lifting it to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to her fingers. Her eyes fluttered open, the deep, rich brown depths now darker than he'd ever seen them. The sight made him cringe. It only meant that what the doctor had told him was true. She wouldn't make it through the night.

"Griss…" she murmured weakly as her eyes drifted closed again.

Lingering over her fingers, Grissom tugged on them gently, attempting to keep her awake for as long he could.

Her eyes sluggishly opened, her unseeing eyes searching for him.

He brushed the soft strands that had haphazardly fallen about her face in sleep away from her face, his hand inching underneath her cheek to cradle it, lifting it slightly to face him. Her eyes searched for him. When their eyes met, a small sigh escaped from her lips.

"I…I wanted to tell you," she licked her dry lips.

Grissom shushed her, "It's all right. Don't talk..," He had tried to sound reassuring, but it was more than he felt and his voice cracked at the last. "…you need to rest. I love you."

She understood in that moment how very much he truly did love her, and something more. That she would never make it through the night.

"I just wanted to find you and tell you what I figured out." She tried to move, until she felt the raw heat spread up her side and around her chest. It was excruciatingly painful, sucking the air from her lungs in an instant. She gasped for more air, but found that it burned even worse.

Grissom, watching her and seeing the pain flick across her face and the gasp of air she fought for, hurriedly, but ever so gently, pushed her back against the pillows. "Please don't, Sara," he begged her. "Please just lie still."

She had no strength left to fight him and willingly lay still. After a couple of moments of quiet, she asked, "I'm not going to make it, am I?"

Grissom lied for the first time to the only woman he loved. "Sure you are, you're going to be fine."

"You're a bad liar, Dr. Grissom," she smiled faintly. Her brow creased and she looked at him as if in deep thought. "You can make it, Grissom. Even if I don't, you still can."

"Sara…"

"No, you have to. You have to promise me. I found the way, and we had all the time," her voice growing urgent. "I had it all this time and when I realized it, I pulled it out of my reticule and looked at it as if it held all the answers in the world."

Grissom's hand, that had been slowly smoothing her skin on her hand, stilled suddenly. "That's why you had it?"

Sara looked at the anguished look on his face, not understanding why he'd be upset about it. She'd found the way home. "I…"

"You had it gripped tightly in your hand and wouldn't let go of it even when we got you to the house."

"It's the key, Grissom. It's what will get us…" her voice faltered. "...you, home. I needed to find you to tell you."

Grissom's eyes, riddled with pain, clamped shut as he tilted his head heavenward.

"Grissom?"

"The ring once belonged to the Countess, it was lost some time ago, on a journey she'd taken to France. Edwin had related a few nights ago how the ring had held a curse on it. I didn't of course believe it, but…" He glanced down at her, his eyes filling with tears. "It would seem the curse was passed on to you, it should've been the Countess instead... not you."

Sara shook her head at his distress, the motion making her dizzy. She pressed her head further back against the pillow, willing her head to quit spinning. On a raspy breath, she told Grissom, "Don't, Griss. Don't take this upon yourself. There's no way we could've known and if we had, I wouldn't have done anything differently." Her voice trailed away as her eyes shifted from his to their adjoined hands. It would've been an endearing moment if it weren't for the desperation that lingered in the air. His gaze strayed to where their hands lay, her long, slender fingers lay weakly in his grasp and he took a shuddering breath, restraining the tears that wanted to fall. A shudder coursed through her frame and she whispered, "I'm so cold, Gil."

The blankness of her stare weakened his resolve and tears came crashing down. "Sara, you have to hold on," his voice gruff and commanding. "I can't," he watched her eyes drift shut. "No. No, Sara, not yet, you can't go yet, there's still too much for me to tell you. Sara?" he cried. All the strength remaining within him vanished. His body slumped, racked by tears, and gasping for breath. He frantically searched for a pulse on her wrist, not getting one, he leant his ear to her chest, listening for any sign, but only hearing his own breathing and the rushing of his blood in his ears. He clutched her shoulders as he lay upon her, his fingers clenching and unclenching in rhythm with his sobs. "Please, no. Please don't go. I can't do this without you." Gasping for breath, he whispered, "I love you, Sara."

It could've been minutes or even hours before his mind registered where he was and what living hell he was in. It took several more minutes before he could sit up and when he did, his shoulders fell, defeated. The serene grace that had claimed her made his breath hitch. Even in death she was beautiful, his wife. He remembered then the item that had brought them there, to this point. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief that encased the delicate ring. The handkerchief draped over his hand as he held the ring up. It was the ring that took them on this journey, the ring that helped them understand and commit to their love and it was the ring that took her from him. Her words came back to haunt him.

_"I wouldn't have done anything differently."_

The ring was now a symbol of their love. Taking it from its soft cocoon, he held it between his fingers and with his other hand, lifted hers. He positioned the ring at the tip of her finger and said, "With this ring–"

A bright flash of light engulfed them, the fire crackling and snapping the only sounds in the room.

-The End -

Epilogue to follow.


	17. Epilogue

The jewels glistened like sparkling stars as the bright light shone down on them. The delicate, sparkling gems grew in intensity as the two bodies flew through the air, crashing to the floor on top of the glass and jewelry strewn about the room. A couple of loud grunts and the sound of crunching glass filled the room, but no words were spoken.

Grissom stood slowly, drawing Sara up with him, his fingers gripping hers as he helped her. They stood together – close, looking into each other's stunned faces. Grissom's eyes traveled the length of her, assuring himself that she wasn't an illusion, a phantom haunting his belief that this was all a dream.

Sara looked about the room, as if seeing it for the first time. She turned back to him, about to say something, when she realized she was clutching the ring and handkerchief in her hand. She lifted it up between the two of them, their eyes drawn to it as if it were calling to them. They stared at it for a long moment, both feeling and thinking the same things.

Had it really happened?

Their eyes met, questioning, searching for confirmation. Before they put voice to their feelings, other voices were heard outside the door, approaching leisurely, but allowed enough time for Grissom and Sara to adjust to a newfound awkwardness between them. Sara took a step back from Grissom and his hand fell to his side, preserving a look of professionalism, just as Nick and Warrick entered carrying their field kits.

Sara turned to them as they approached, wrapping the ring back within the handkerchief and bending down to place it within her overturned field kit.

Grissom, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off of her – the memories still too vivid for him to think of them as just part of some dream. She was whole and healthy, still a bit worn down, but nothing like the pale, fragile creature he'd last beheld. His heart ached to hold her, to feel her skin beneath his fingertips, to kiss her hair – to know that she loved him. He couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that it was all just a dream.

"Hey, boss. Sorry it took so long. We had to drop a few things off back at the lab before we could get here."

Grissom torpidly turned to stare unseeing at Nick. Late? What was he rambling about? Grissom darted a glance about the room. He was mentally shaken back to the here and now. But when he looked back at Sara, met her unsteady gaze, he wasn't so sure that they were late, maybe more like they were just in time.

Later, they drove back to the lab, the silence uncomfortable, but Grissom thanked whatever higher power there was in the universe for the time. When reflecting back on the moment that Nick and Warrick had interrupted them, he realized how close he had come to making a fool of himself. If they'd entered a moment or two later, he would surely have appeared to them as a raving lunatic.

As Nick and Warrick pulled up to their parking space, they glanced over at Grissom and Sara, who were both standing awkwardly together at the back of their Denali staring at the sunrise. Something had seemed off during their evidence gathering at the jewelry store and now they understood what it was. Something had happened between Grissom and Sara, and they were both trying to hide it. Nick and Warrick each suspected their coworkers were trying to hide this insight from them, never realizing in truth that Sara and Grissom were hiding it from each other.

After all the evidence was dropped off at each perspective lab, Grissom closed himself off in his office and Sara went to the locker room to grab her duffle bag. She stopped in front of Grissom's door, lifting her hand to knock, but lowered it back to her side and shook her head before turning to leave.

Grissom, on the other hand, saw the shadow cross his window and knew that Sara stood just on the other side of his door. He waited for the knock, but it never came. He exhaled in relief, but soon it turned into grief. He still couldn't get over the loss. It had seemed so real. Their declaration of love, their make-believe vows, and the terror of not knowing what he was going to do as he felt the life slip away from her while he cradled her on the bed they'd shared. He clutched the short glass before him, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. A swift flick of his wrist, a tilt of his head and he felt the slow burn of the amber liquid coat his throat.

Weeks went by, their routine never missing a beat; their memories of the events in another time period washed clean – almost.

Sara closed her locker, the soft click of the latch barely audible to her own ears. There was something missing, something she hadn't done, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was.

So intense were her musings that she didn't hear the soft swoosh of the locker room door or the tentative footsteps that approached her. The hand on her shoulder made her jump and she clutched her hand to her chest as she turned to see who had scared the living daylights out of her.

"Sara, you okay?" Nick asked.

His obvious concern touched her. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. You just scared the crap out of me." She punched him in the arm, a friendly battering.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, sorry, didn't mean to send you into a fit."

She ducked her head, and then bent down to pick up her duffle bag. "I'm not in any kind of fit. I was just… thinking."

"Ooh, careful, careful. We don't need to fry that brain of yours now. You know, thinking only gets you into trouble."

"Keep trying, Nick. I might still have something to laugh at."

Nick had gathered his items from the locker, stuffed them into a similar duffle bag and closed his locker when he realized that Sara was nearly out the door. "Sara. Wait up," he called.

She waited for him in the hallway.

"I'll walk out with you. You know, we're heading over to…"

"No, Nick. I'm really not in the mood. I keep feeling like I'm missing something, or that I had something to do today. I think I'll just head home," she said, but her voice drifted off as she turned back to look down the hallway, her brow creasing into a frown as she tried to remember what she'd forgotten.

"Well, you'll probably remember it when you get home." His eyes traveled the length of her, her stance, her preoccupied expression and realized he hadn't seen her this way in a while. An image of her in a jewelry store, looking lost, flashed in his memory. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look tired. You should get some more sleep, Sara. I haven't seen you this bad since that burglary a month ago."

Startled, Sara turned back to him; eyeing him questioningly she grasped his forearm, as if begging him to continue.

"You know, that one you and Grissom had? Warrick and I came late and helped you finish processing it and then Grissom holed himself up in his office..." his voice trailed off as he watched Sara dash back down the hallway and into the locker room. He shrugged it off and turned to leave.

The locker room door crashed open as Sara ran over to her locker. She opened it hastily and skimmed over her calendar, tapping each day as she mumbled incoherently. Gradually, her hand stilled and her lips pressed together firmly. She gave it one last tap of her finger then shut the locker and left the building determinedly. She had things to do and people to see.

Grissom wiped his hands on the towel and then slung it over his shoulder. He stirred the vegetables in the pan one last time and turned the temperature down as he put the lid back over them.

By the time he returned to it, he'd fed Jules and Verne and even sent off an e-mail to his mother. But he was only able to give it one full stirring when the doorbell rang. Caught unawares, he bumped the skillet with his hand, singeing his index finger in the process. Out of instinct he put the finger to his lips and sucked on it as he turned off the stove and put the offending skillet on a cool burner.

He was still sucking on his finger when he opened his door to find Sara standing on the other side, nervously chewing on her bottom lip and staring off in the distance. Looking first toward where she was looking and then back at her, he wondered what had brought her to his doorstep. At first glance, he thought she looked tired, shadows deepening her eyes, her manner relaxed as she stood at the railing of his porch. But as his trained eye began to observe her more deeply, she did indeed look relaxed, content even, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He was about to invite her inside, when she turned to face him, a bemused smile lighting her face, her eyes dancing with merriment. She brazenly reached up to take his finger away from his mouth and tenderly lowered his hand to her abdomen.

"What do you think of the names, Edwin for a boy or Danielle for a girl?"


End file.
